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A SHEAF OF STORIES 


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“ ‘ Here,’ she said, ‘ look at this dear little pie. Is n’t it cunning ? ’ ” 

FKONTisriECE. See page 14. 



A SHEAF OF STORIES 


BY 


SUSAN COOLIDGE 

Author of “What Katy Did,” “What Katy Did at 
School,” “A New Year’s Bargain,” etc. 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

( 

J. W. F. KENNEDY 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1906 


IJ8RARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooips Received 


AUG 2T 1906 


CoDynuOl Entry 

(ZliJ927,t^ 

CLAS^a XXc. No. 



Cojyyrightt 1906t 

By Little, Brown, and Company, 


All rights reserved 


Published October, 1906 


« n 


THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. 8. A< 


CONTENTS 


Page 

A Thanksgiving Pie 1 

How St. Valentine remembered Millt .... 19 

General Trot and his Thanksgiving Dinner . . 41 

Harry’s Forenoon with the Bear 53 

The Two Little Missionaries 71 

Nanny and her Valentines 83 

The Fox and the Turkeys ; or, Charley and the 

Old Folks 97 

The Horse and the Wolf 117 

The Two Goats 139 

The Fox and the Stork 173 

The Mastiff and his Master 197 


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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


‘ Here/ she said, ‘ look at this dear little pie. 

Is n’t it cunning?’ ” Frontispiece 


“ ‘ What delicious custard ! ’ cried Phebe, pre- 
tending to take a large mouthful of pearl 


button ” Page 49 ^ 

“‘I’m so glad you ’ve come,’ she said ; ‘ we ’re 

all ready for you ’” “ SO 

“ ‘ He was always walloping us boys ’ ” . . . “ 112 / 

“ The prettiest, brightest, kindest little nurse 

that ever was ” . . “ 132/ 


“ At sixteen . . . Towser left school and went 

into the great Perrin Iron Works “ 205 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 




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A THANKSGIVING PIE 

I T was on the day before Thanksgiving that 
the saucer-pie came into being. Miss Hepzi- 
bah made it. All the grown-up pies were done 
and in the oven. The Indian pudding was mixed 
and flavored, waiting its turn till all the other 
things should be drawn out of the oven, and it 
should be put in to bake slowly all night long, 
and come out in the morning brown as a chest- 
nut, and spicy as — well, as an old-fashioned 
Indian pudding. There is nothing else in the 
world spicy enough to be compared with it. 

Rows of loaves, brown and white, stood covered 
with towels on the shelves of the buttery, which 
smelt delightfully, and not of fresh bread alone, 
for in the corner, under a tin pan, was the huge 
jelly- cake, a miracle of light sponge, and jam, and 
pink and white frosting. Apple sauce and cran- 


4 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


berry sauce were simmering over the fire in little 
kettles. On the window-sill stood the great 
chicken pie, set out to cool, while beside it to- 
morrow’s turkey lay trussed and ready, its drum- 
sticks and wings meekly folded over a well-stuffed 
breast. There was no end to the good things, 
thought little Dolly. It was as exciting as 
Thanksgiving Day itself, just to stand by and 
watch and see, and smell the fragrance of the 
impending feast. 

A morsel of paste remained on the board after 
the big pies were finished, and at the bottom of 
the bowl a little strained and lemon-flavored apple 
sauce. Miss Hepzibah stepped to the dresser and 
took down a small blue and white saucer. Dolly’s 
eyes grew round as the saucer with expectation 
when she saw this. To and fro went Miss Hepzi- 
bah’s roller, and presently the paste had become a 
smooth, flat sheet, which was laid over the saucer 
and neatly trimmed about the edges. Then the 
apple was poured in, covered with another sheet 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


5 


of paste, three little fork-holes were pricked in the 
middle, and lastly, sizz, sizz ” went Miss Hepzi- 
bah’s ‘‘jigger,’' and behold, in one second of time, 
a pretty scalloped border grew into shape and 
rounded the pie into perfect beauty. Dolly had 
been holding her breath during the last of these 
operations, but now she felt that she must speak 
or die ! 

Is it for me? ” she cried. “ Oh, Miss Hepsy, 
is it for me ? ” 

Wait and see,” replied Miss Hepsy. The pie 
was meant for Dolly, but, like many grown per- 
sons, Miss Hepzibah enjoyed bafHing children and 
putting them off when they asked questions. She 
had never had much to do with any child till 
Dolly came, and did not understand how little 
hearts set themselves on little things, or how hard 
it is for little patiences to “ wait and see ” when 
they are bidden to do so. 

With anxious interest Dolly watched the saucer- 
pie shoved into the oven. You may be sure that 


6 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


she managed to be on hand to see it come out. 
Miss Hepsy had never made a saucer-pie before 
since Dolly had lived with her. That was almost 
a year. Dolly was beginning to forget the time 
that went before — the time when she lived with 
mamma, and was petted with baby-talk, had treats 
and surprises, and spent the pennies given her in 
candy instead of putting them into the missionary 
box, as Miss Hepsy made her do. Miss Hepzibah 
meant to be very kind to Dolly, but her sense of 
duty was strong, and she thought a good deal 
more of what was good for Dolly’s character than 
of what Dolly happened to be wishing and long- 
ing for at the moment. This sometimes led to 
misunderstandings between them. 

Dear little Dolly ! Her pink and white fat 
face was full of anxiety as Miss Hepsy lifted the 
saucer-pie from the oven and set it on the table 
to cool. 

Now you ’ll tell me if it ’s for me, won’t you I ” 
she said. 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


7 


Miss Hepsy relented, and was just going to say 
yes,’’ when, unfortunately, somebody knocked 
at the door. It was little Kitty Blane who 
knocked. Kitty was the child of a neighbor not 
quite so well off as Miss Hepzibah was. Mrs. 
Blane happened just then to be laid up with 
rheumatism, and Miss Hepsy had promised her 
a pumpkin pie, which Kitty was now come to 
fetch. It stood on the table, already packed in 
a basket with a mould of cranberry jelly, and 
Miss Hepzibah proceeded to tuck a clean napkin 
neatly about it. 

Suddenly a bright thought struck her. She 
turned sharp round and seized the saucer-pie. 

Now, Dolly,” she said, I did mean this pie 
for you; but here 's Kitty, you see, whose ma is 
sick, and who ain’t going to have any Thanks- 
giving at all, none of her folks, nor nothing. Now, 
you ’ll have Aunt Jessie, you know, and Uncle 
Jim, and Grandma, and all the cousins, and a good 
dinner and a first-rate time generally ; so I think 


8 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


you better give this little pie to Kitty ! You 'd 
rather, wouldn’t you? You don’t want to feel 
selfish about it, I’m sure, do you, Dolly?” 

Miss Hepzibah thought that to make this little 
sacrifice would be good for Dolly’s character, 
you see; so she was much disappointed when, 
instead of cheerfully replying, like a little girl in 
a book, Yes, indeed. Miss Hepsy, let Kitty have 
it,” Dolly burst into tears, and sobbed out, Oh, 
was it for me ? I don’t want to give it away. I 
don’t, Miss Hepsy ! I don’t want to ! ” 

Dolly ! ” cried Miss Hepsy, sternly, I am 
ashamed of you ! Here, Kitty, take the little pie 
and go. I ’m sorry that Dolly should behave so 
naughty, that I am.” 

^^Oh, please. Miss Hepsy,” faltered Kitty, 
don’t give me Dolly’s pie. I ’d a great deal 
rather she had it; indeed I would.’’ 

It is n’t hers. It’s your pie ! ” declared Miss 
Hepsy, with a stamp of her foot. I never gave 
it to Dolly at all. There, Kitty, I’ve put it in 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


9 


the basket. Go home, now, and tell your ma 
I’ll look in sometime to-morrow, and see how 
she’s getting along.” 

Kitty cast a sorrowful look at the sobbing 
Dolly. But it was never of any use to oppose 
Miss Hepsy, so she took the basket up and went 
away without another word. She liked little 
pies very much; but this, she felt, it would be 
impossible to enjoy, because, while she ate it, she 
should be thinking of poor Dolly, left behind 
pieless and tearful. 

Arrived at home, she gave Miss Hepzibah’s 
message to her mother, set the pies and the jelly 
away in a cool place, mended the fire, hung on 
the kettle for tea, and then sat down on the broad 
stone doorstep to rest for a little while. The 
sun was setting, making haste to go to bed, as 
sleepy suns do on November afternoons. The 
air was mild, with just a faint bright touch of 
frost, which seemed to add freshness to it rather 
than chill. Kitty always liked to watch the sun- 


10 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


sets, they were so pretty from the kitchen door. 
All the leafless woods turned into beautiful 
colors; the pond, which shone in the distance, 
gleamed golden and still, like a big -burnished 
mirror. Odd, unexplained fragrances came from 
the forest, as though the ghosts of the dead 
flowers had come back to haunt the spot. A be- 
lated bird hopped by. Above was a dome of 
pure yellow sky, with here and there a little 
fleck of crimson cloud drifting over it, like a tiny, 
rapid boat. Surely no summer evening could be 
more beautiful. Frost and winter, all unlovely 
things, seemed just then impossible and a long 
way off. 

Presently Kitty left off looking at the sunset, 
to watch a small figure which came into view on 
the road, dodging behind fences, and kicking up 
dead leaves with a pair of brown little feet. It 
was a girl about Kitty's own age, a girl with a 
thin, dark face, tangled hair, and a ragged frock, 
which only half hid her limbs. Behind her ran 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


11 


a dog, which barked and snapped at the leaves 
which the girl kicked up with her toes. 

When the girl saw Kitty sitting there, she 
stopped and looked for a minute as though she 
would turn and run away. Then she sidled 
slowly nearer, glancing shyly out of her large 
black eyes, and not speaking till Kitty spoke. 

Is that your dog? asked Kitty. 

Yes,’' said the girl, “ he ’s mine. His name 
is Spot.’^ 

‘‘And what’s your name?” was Kitty^s next 
question. 

“ Dono what ’t is now. Mother used to call me 
Nance sometimes.’' 

“ But don’t they call you Nance any longer? ” 
asked Kitty, surprised. 

“No. Nobody don’t call me no name at all, 
only just ‘Come here, you,^ or ‘Get out, you 
limb ! ’ or something like that.” 

“ Why, what horrid people they must be I I 
would n’t stay any longer with people who called 


12 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


me names like that,” cried Kitty, opening wide 
her eyes. 

“ Where would you stay, then ? ” demanded 
the girl. 

This was a poser ! 

I ’d — I ’d — run away, or — something. I ’d 
go somewhere else,” said Kitty. 

Yes, — but where I Nobody wants a tramp- 
child like me about. ’Most always at nice clean 
houses like this they drive me away. Once a boy 
set his dog on me, but Spot was the biggest, and 
lie gin it to ’em, I tell you. Jack, and Spelter Sal, 
well, they ain^t so very kind, I s’pose, but they 
gin me a meal of vittles whenever they has any 
theirselves, and I sleep under the tent with ’em ; 
and it ’s better than outside. ’T ain’t so easy as it 
sounds to go hungry, I can tell you.” 

Oh, I am so sorry for you ! ” cried Kitty, 
with tears in her eyes. Wait here just a 
minute, and let me ask mother if I may n’t give 
you some supper. I ’m sure she ’ll say yes.” 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


13 


And in she ran, leaving the poor little vagrant 
at the gate, with Spot jumping and barking at 
her heels. 

** Here,” cried she, coming back with a mug 
and a plate of bread in her hands, ‘‘I knew 
mother’d let me. Here’s some bread-and-milk 
for you, Nance. Sit down on the step and eat it 
all up. Poor Nance ! it ’s dreadful for you to be 
so hungry. Why, I never was hungry in my 
life, — not so hungry that I couldn’t wait, I 
mean,” she added, correcting herself. 

Nance evidently had reached the point of hun- 
ger when it was not easy to wait. She attacked 
the bread-and-milk like one famished. But, half 
starved as she was, Kitty observed that she 
stopped every now and then to throw a bit of 
bread to Spot, who sat on his tail watching with 
wistful eyes each mouthful that went down his 
mistress’s throat. When Kitty saw this, she ran 
for more bread, and fed Spot herself. Her tender 
heart was full of pity for the forlorn creatures; 


14 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


she longed to help farther, to do more for them. 
A sudden thought crossed her mind. 

Shall I ? she asked herself. Yes, I will.’’ 
And without farther delay she hastened indoors 
once more, and came back with a happy flush on 
her cheeks, and in her hand the saucer-pie ! 

Here,” she said, look at this dear little pie. 
Is n’t it cunning ! Miss Hepsy gave it me for 
my own, and I’m going to give it to you. I 
won’t give you the saucer, though, because that 
does n’t belong to me. Don’t touch it till I come 
back. I ’m going to get a knife and some paper 
to wrap it in.” 

You should have seen Nance’s face as Kitty 
carefully loosened the edges of the pie, turned it 
out, and folded it in the paper ! I suppose such a 
treat had never lighted upon the poor little waif 
before in the whole course of her life. Spot ap- 
peared to understand that something of unusual 
importance was going on, for he stood on his 
hind-legs, barked wildly, careered about, and 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


15 


behaved generally like a distracted dog. When 
the pie was placed in her hands, Nance looked at 
it silently, and then she looked at Kitty. She 
did not say Thank you” — I suppose no one 
had ever taught her to do so, but her eyes made 
up for the deficiencies of her tongue, and Kitty 
missed nothing. Spot ! Spot ! ” called Nance, 
and, squeezing the precious pie very tightly in 
her hand, she smiled once more into Kitty’s face, 
and walked away. Kitty watched her go, with 
a warm, happy feeling at her heart. It was a 
great deal nicer that poor Nance had the pie than 
if she had eaten it herself, — this was the thought 
in her mind when at last she went in and shut 
the door. 

Nance, meanwhile, was making the best of her 
way toward the gypsy tent, which was a long 
way off in the woods. She had no idea of keep- 
ing the pie till she got there, because then Jack 
and Spelter Sal would, she knew, take it from 
her; but she wished to enjoy the pleasure of 


16 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


possession till the last possible moment. As she 
walked, she every now and then lifted the parcel 
to her nose for a rapturous sniff, but she did not 
undo the paper until nearly a mile was passed, 
and she and Spot were almost within sight of the 
tent. Then she sat down under a tree, untied 
the string, and after feasting her eyes for a mo- 
ment, raised the pie to her lips, and took a great 
bite. It was even better than it looked, — the 
best, the very best thing, Nance thought, that she 
had ever imagined. Oh, if it would only last 
forever, and never be eaten up ! she thought, as 
she took the second bite. 

Now Spot had seated himself also at the same 
time with Nance, and exactly in front of her. 
He, too, smelt the pie, and admired its looks. 
When she took the first mouthful, he writhed 
himself about, and his tail rapped sharply in the 
dry leaves beneath him. His mouth watered ; his 
red tongue hung out from his jaws, and waved 
to and fro suggestingly. At last he gave a short 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


ir 


reminding bark. Nance stopped eating. She 
held the pie a little way off, and looked first at 
it and then at Spot. 

^^Yes,’’ she said at last. ^^You shall have 
some, Spotty, ’cause you ’re the only friend I Ve 
got. Poor Spotty, dear Spotty, don’t wag so — 
you shall have a bit.’’ She gave a little gasp 
of renunciation, broke the pie bravely in two, 
and held the smaller piece out to Spot. It was a 
large piece — almost half of all that was left! 
Spot seized it joyfully. Munch — crunch — down 
his throat it went in large morsels. Munch — 
crunch — Nance’s share was also disappearing. 
In a very short time there was no pie left — not 
a crumb ; and which of the two who shared the 
feast enjoyed it the most thoroughly, it would 
indeed be hard to say. 

So Dolly, and Kitty, and Nance, and Spot, 
each and all had a saucer-pie. Were these four 
pies, then, or was it but one, multiplied and made 

many by the blessed arithmetical rule called 
2 


18 


A THANKSGIVING PIE 


golden, which consists in giving each to the 
other? And which of those who gave enjoyed 
the giving most, think you, — Dolly, who parted 
with the pie against her will; Kitty, who gave 
from pity and tenderness of heart ; or Nance, who 
lovingly shared her little all with her dumb and 
only friend? 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBEEED 
MILLY 



HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED 
MILLY 


I MAGINE a cold, snappy day in February. 

Frost on window-panes, ice on tree boughs, 
bright sun twinkling on panes and boughs alike. 
Three chairs pulled close to the fire, three little 
girls sitting on the chairs, and three kittens sitting 
on the laps of the little girls. That makes six of 
them, you see. So the story begins. 

Won^t it be nice I ” said one of the six. 
Splendid,” said another. “ Ever so much 
nicer than last year.” 

The third said nothing, but her face grew pink, 
and she fluttered up and down in her chair as if 
thinking of something too exciting and too 
delightful to put into words. 

This was Milly. I want you to like her, and I 
think you will. She was twelve years old, very 


22 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

small and thin, and very lame. A tiny pair of 
crutches, with cushioned tops, leaned against her 
chair. On these she went about the house merrily 
and contentedly all day long. Everybody liked 
to hear the sound of Milly's crutches, because it 
told that Milly was at hand. Grandmamma said 
there was no music like it to her ears ; but I think 
she must have meant to except Milly’s laugh, 
which was gleeful as a silver bell. As for her face, 
it always made me think of a white wild violet, 
it was so fair and pure and transparent, with its 
innocent, wondering eyes of clear blue ; and her 
temper was as sweet as her face. Do you wonder 
that people loved her ? She lived in an old- 
fashioned house with her grandfather and grand- 
mother ; but at this time I am telling about, she 
was making a visit at her Uncle Silases, the first 
visit which Milly had ever made in her life. 

Uncle Silas’s house was about ten miles from 
Grandpapa’s. It stood in a large, busy village, 
which seemed like a city to Milly, who had never 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 28 

seen anything but the quiet country. But the 
most delightful part of the visit, she thought, was 
being among her cousins, whom she had hardly 
known before. There were quite a number of 
them, from big Ralph, who counted himself almost 
a man, to little Tom in his high-chair. But Milly’s 
favorites were the twins, Florry and Dorry, who 
were almost exactly her own age. What happy 
times those three did have together ! They read 
story books, they dressed dolls ; I cannot tell you 
half of all they did. Milly had been there four 
weeks, but it didn’t seem four days. 

Just now they all were absorbed in a valentine 
party which was to come off the next day but one. 
Florry was cutting a big heart out of deep red 
paper; Dorry, with a pencil in her mouth, was 
trying to find a rhyme; and Milly, who knew 
nothing about valentines, sat by, stroking her 
kitten and admiring the cleverness of the other 
two. 

‘‘See,” explained Florry, laying the heart on 


24 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

the lid of a pasteboard box, ‘‘this will go so, on 
top of the box, and the slit for the valentines so. 
When Ralph comes in, I 'm going to ask him to 
cut the slit for me/' 

“ And where does the box go 1 " asked Milly^ 
deeply interested. 

“ Oh, on the hall table, you know. Then all the 
boys and girls can drop their valentines in as they 
go upstairs, and nobody can tell who wrote any 
of them.” 

“ I wish I could get this right,” sighed Dorry. 
“ Do help me, Florry. It ’s for Luther Payne, you 
know, and I 've got as far as 

‘ I only wish, dear Luther, 

You ’d promise to be mine.’ 

“ There 's ‘ valentine,' you see, to go with ‘ mine,' 
but I can't find any rhyme for ‘ Luther.' '' 

Neither could Dorry. As they were puzzling 
over it, a sound was heard in the hall, as of some 
one stamping the snow from his boots. 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 25 

There ’s Ralph/’ cried Florry ; now he 
cut the slit in the box.” 

Ralph came in. 

Here a letter for you, Milly,” he said. 

For me ! ” said Milly. How funny I I never 
had a letter before. Oh, yes ! there was the letter 
Aunty wrote asking me to come and see you ; but 
that was to Grandma.” 

She opened the letter. Her face fell as she 
read. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Dorry. “What 
makes you look so ? ” 

“ Grandpapa ^s sick,” answered Milly, in a 
choked voice. “He’s caught ^ cold, and feels 
badly all over; and, oh dear! IVe got to go 
home.” 

“Not right away? Not before the party?” 
cried the others. 

Milly nodded. She was too nearly crying to 
trust herself to speak. 

“ But, unless Grandpa is very sick, you might 


26 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 


stay till Thursday, surely,*' said Ralph. He 
took the letter that Milly held towards him, 
and read: 

My Pbecious Milly, — Your dear little letter has 
just come, and I am so glad that you are well and happy. 
I am sorry to say that Grandpapa is sick ; not danger- 
ously sick, but he has caught a cold, and feels badly all 
over, he says. All yesterday and all to-day he has stayed 
in bed ; and, though he does n’t say anything about it, I 
can see that he wishes you were at home. Wouldn’t 
you hke to come home, dear, and make the rest of your 
visit to Aunt Elizabeth ^t some other time ? lam sure 
it would comfort Grandpapa and set him right up to see 
you again. Perhaps Uncle Silas could drive you over 
to-morrow ; but I sha’n’t tell Grandpapa that I ’m look- 
ing for you, for fear that he might be disappointed, in 
case it should storm or anything should prevent you from 
coming. 

Your loving 

Grandmamma. 

^^Why, you needn’t go till Thursday, then,** 
said Florry. Grandmamma says she won't tell 
Grandpapa; so he'll not mind." 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 27 

‘‘Oh, yes, I must. I must go to-morrow,” 
replied Milly. “ Grandpapa gets into such low 
spirits when he has these colds. I know that 
Grandma wants me very much.” 

“ But it’s too bad,” broke in Dora, almost cry- 
ing; ‘‘you never had a valentine in your life, or 
went to a valentine party ; and this is going to be 
such a nice one. You must stay. Think of going 
home to that forlorn house, Grandpa sick and all, 
when we ’re having such fun here.” 

“I sha’n’t enjoy it one bit without you,” cried 
Florry. “Don’t go, Milly, don’t! Your grand- 
ma does n^t positively expect you right away, you 
see. It’ll do just as well if you’re there on 
Thursday.” 

“ No, it won’t,” said Milly, cheerfully. A big 
tear gathered in the corner of her eye and hopped 
down her nose, but her voice was quite firm. 
“ Don’t feel badly about it, please, for I don’t. I 
could n’t enjoy myself a bit if I knew that Grand- 
pa was sick, and wanted me, and I was not there. 


28 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

It’s been too lovely here, and I’m real sorry 
to go ; but, perhaps I can come some time when 
Grandpapa is well again.” 

Ralph looked and listened. He knew of the 
lump in Milly’s throat as she uttered these brave 
words, and understood what a great disappoint- 
ment it was for her to give up the valentine party. 
Aunty came in, and was as sorry as the children 
that Milly must go, though she kissed her and said 
it was quite right, and that Uncle Silas would drive 
her over to-morrow as early as he could. Dorry 
and Florry comforted themselves with promises 
of future visits. Ralph said nothing. He seemed 
to be thinking very hard, however; and that 
evening, when Dorry wanted him, she found his 
bedroom door locked, and was informed from 
inside that he was busy.” Ralph busy ! What 
was the world coming to ! 

Next morning, quite early, he came in with his 
hat and coat on. 

‘‘Milly,’' he said, stooping over her, “I’ve got 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 29 

to go away on business, so 1 11 say good-bye to 
you now.*’ 

“ Oh, sha’n’t I see you again ? I ’m so sorry,” 
replied Milly, putting her white violet face against 
his rough boy’s cheek. Good-bye, dear Ralph, 
you ’ve been ever so good to me.” 

‘‘Good? Stuff and nonsense!” said Ralph, 
gruffly, and walked away. 

“Where has Ralphy gone. Mamma?” asked 
Florry. “ I thought only big, grown-up people 
had ‘business.’” 

“ Ralphy is pretty big,” said Mamma, smiling, 
but she did n’t answer Florry’s question. 

Just then Dorry held up Daisy, the largest 
and dearest of the kittens, to kiss Milly for 
“ good-bye.” 

“ Oh, yes, Milly,” put in Florry, “ kiss her ; you 
don’t know how beautifully she does it.” 

Milly, laughing to see “ how beautifully Daisy 
did it,” took pussy for a moment, as she sat by the 
cheerful fire, waiting for the signal to put on her 


80 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

cloak. Daisy really was a very intelligent puss. 
Milly's great delight had been to see her ^^go 
through her performances,” as the children called 
it. She would sit in the corner at their bidding, 
make a bow, or cry,” rubbing her eyes with her 
paws ; or, better than all, she would make believe 
go to sleep in the dolly's crib. Milly thought of 
these things as she held Daisy’s soft cheek against 
her own, and half wished she could take the little 
pet with her; meantime the children crowded 
about her, eager not to lose a moment of her 
precious company. 

Uncle had business too, so it was three o’clock 
before Milly set off. The little cousins parted 
with tears and kisses. 

“ I don’t care one bit for the party now,” de- 
clared Dorry, as she took her last look at the 
carriage moving on in the distance. 

It was a long, cold drive, and the sun was set- 
ting just as they drew up at Grandpapa’s door. 
Grandmamma was watching in the window. 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 31 

When she saw Milly, she nodded and looked 
overjoyed. 

‘‘ I was just giving you up, my precious,” she 
said, as she opened the door. Grandpapa 's been 
looking for you all day. I had to tell him. Kun 
right in and see him, dear. You *11 stay the night, 
Silas?” 

No, mother, I must be getting back. ** I ’ll 
just step in and see father a minute. Nothing 
serious, is it?” 

No, I think not. Half of it was fretting after 
Milly. That child is the very apple of his eye.” 

Meantime Milly was in Grandpapa’s room. 
When he heard the tap, tap of her crutch, he sat 
up in bed, looking bright and eager. Such a hug 
as he gave her ! 

^‘Grandpapa’s darling! Grandpapa’s little 
flower ! ” he said, as he kissed her. How glad she 
was to have come 1 The disappointment about 
the party was quite forgotten. 

All the evening long she sat by the side of the 


32 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 


bed, telling him and Grandmamma about her 
visit. It seemed as if Grandpapa could not bear 
to have her out of his sight. At last Grandmamma 
interfered, and sent her upstairs so tired and sleepy 
that she just slipped off her clothes and went to 
bed as fast as she could. But, after she had 
said her prayers, and her head was on the pillow, 
the recollection of her disappointment and of the 
merry time the others were going to have on the 
morrow came over her, and she was half inclined 
to cry. 

I won t. I won’t think about it,’’ she said. 
She did n’t, but valentines seemed to run in her 
head ; and all night long she dreamed about a 
valentine. 

When she woke, the sun was streaming into 
the room. She guessed that it was late, and, as 
dressing was always a slow process, she got up at 
once. But, as she put her feet into her slippers, 
she gave a little start and pulled one out again. 
Something stiff and crackling was in the slipper. 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 33 


She looked; it was a note directed to ‘‘Miss 
Milly Meyers,” and inside were written these 
verses : 

“ Glass slippers, kid slippers, pray what does it matter ? 

It does n’t matter at all. 

Your foot, Milly dear, though I don’t wish to flatter. 

Is just as pretty and small 

“ As mine was of yore, in the days of the fairies. 

When I went all in state to the dance. 

With a rat on the box of my coach, and, what rare is, 
Mice steeds, full of spirit and prance. 

“ No fairy help do you need, dear Milly, 

With your face so pure and sweet ; 

And the prince must, indeed, be dull and silly 
Who does not kneel at your feet. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“ Cinderella.” 

Milly thought she must be dreaming again, as 

she sat on the bedside reading these verses. No ! 

she was wide awake. There was the paper in her 

hand. Was ever anything so strange? She 

determined to dress as fast as possible, so as to 

8 


34 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

get downstairs and tell Grandmamma of this won- 
derful thing. 

But lo ! when she went to brush her hair, she 
found another paper wound about the handle of 
the brush, with these lines : 

“ Brush your pretty hair, 

Hair of sunny gold ; 

So I brushed mine in 
Days of old. 

“ Yours is quite as soft, 

Half as long ; 

Fit to figure in 
Tale or song. 

“ Brushing day by day, 

Some day you may be 
Put into a book, 

Just like me. 

“The Fair One with the Golden Locks.” 

Milly clasped her hands in bewilderment. The 
quality of the poetry would have shocked the 
critics, it is true, but Milly thought she never 
before had read such beautiful verses. What did 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 35 


it mean? “ Dicky, dear Dicky,*' she cried to the 
canary, who hung in the window, ‘‘who wrote 
them ? Do tell me.’’ 

Dicky twittered by way of answer, and Milly 
saw that, hanging to the cage by a piece of thread, 
was a third paper. Another valentine ? Yes, 
there was the address, “ Miss Milly Meyers.’^ 

“ I am not ‘ blue/ 

^T is very true ; 

But all the same 
I do love you. 

“ I am a prince — 

Pray do not wince, 

My meaning soon 
I will evince. 

“ I wear a beak 
And do not speak, 

That I your bower 
May safely seek. 

“ Here do I sit, 

And never flit ; 

But sing all day 
For love of it. 


36 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 


“ For love of you 
I sing and sue ; 

Then be my own, 

Oh ! maiden true. 

“Prince Yellow Bird.” 

Milly dropped into a chair, too much amazed 
to stand. 

I wonder if there really are fairies/* she said, 
for never, in my whole life, did I hear of any- 
thing so queer and so delightful.** 

Then she took her crutches and limped across 
the room to wash her hands. But when she lifted 
the lid off the soap-tray, she gave a little jump, for 
there, on the soap, lay another note. This was 
what it said: 

“To Milly. 

From her Valentine, 

“ Little hands, little heart, 

Keep them pure and white, 

Fit for heavenly errands 
And the angels’ sight. 

“ Other hands, tired hands. 

Fearless, clasp and hold. 

Warming, with warm touches, 

Weary hearts and cold. 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 87 

So shall hands, so shall heart, 

Fair as lilies be, 

When, life done, the angels 
Come and call for thee.” 

Milly almost cried over this. She washed her 
hands slowly and carefully, repeating: 

So shall hands, so shall heart, 

Pure as lilies be.” 

Oh, I wish they were,” she said to herself. 

Fastening her dress, she felt in the pocket after 
a pocket-handkerchief. None was there, but, lo ! 
a parcel met her touch. Wondering, she drew it 
out. The dress had not been with her at Uncle 
Silases. It had been left hanging up at home, but 
there was no parcel in the pocket when last she 
wore it. 

Milly’s fingers trembled with excitement. She 
could hardly untie the string. Inside the tissue 
paper which wrapped it was a cunning pink box, 
full of jeweller’s cotton. Milly lifted it. Some- 
thing lay beneath, so pretty and shining that she 


38 HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 

fairly screamed when she caught sight of it. It 
was a locket of clear white crystal, with a gold 
rim ; and inside a tiny strip of pink paper, on 
which were these words: 

“ Fob Milly, who gave up her own pleasure to make 
her sick grandpapa happy, with the compliments of 

“St. Valentine.” 

Grandmamma was surprised enough a moment 
later, when Milly came into the dining-room 
almost at a run, her crutches clicking and tapping 
like castanets, and in her hand the locket and the 
four wonderful letters. She had never known her 
darling to be so much excited before. 

Did you ever see anything so lovely ? ” cried 
Milly. I don’t believe there will be any half so 
pretty at the party to-night. But who did send 
them, Grandmamma!^* 

‘‘I can’t imagine,” replied Grandmamma, 
thoughtfully. Ralph did n’t say a word about 
them when he was here.” 


HOW ST. VALENTINE REMEMBERED MILLY 39 

Ralph here ? Cousin Ralph I When f ” 

‘‘Yesterday morning. He came over to see 
how Grandpapa was, he said. It was pretty dull 
for him, I ’m afraid, for old Mrs. Beetles came in 
and I had to sit with her, and Ralph stayed most 
of the time with Grandpapa. He went upstairs, 
now I think of it, and I did hear him in your room. 
It ’s queer.” 

Milly said no more, but she looked surprisingly 
happy. She loved Ralph very much. Had he 
really taken all this trouble to give her a pleasure, 
she thought I 

So you see, in spite of her losing the party, 
St. Valentine did pretty well for Milly, after all. 
Don’t you think sof 


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GENERAL TROT AND HIS THANKS- 
GIVING DINNER 







GENERAL TROT AND HIS THANKS- 
GIVING DINNER 


I T was the morning of Thanksgiving Day, and 
the old kitchen of Farmer Thayer’s was in 
a bustle. Rachel, the cook, has just thrown 
a fresh armful of hickory on the blazing fire; 
and, as its heat rises and spreads, the great pot 
which hangs above begins to sing, and the turkey 
inside, who was so big they could hardly squeeze 
him in, extends a claw from under the cover, and 
wildly gesticulates, as to say : Look here ! Did 
you ever I What a dinner you’re going to 
have ! ” The chickens in the tin baker hiss and 
crackle, and send forth an odor of stuffing ; the 
Washington pie in the salamander blushes a 
delicate brown ; from the big oven alongside, 
whose door Mrs. Thayer has set open, come 
other delicious smells — of gingerbread and rusk, 
pumpkin pies, baked beans with crisp islands of 


44 GENERAL TROT'S THANKSGIVING DINNER 


pork in their midst, Indian pudding, spicy and 
flavorous, and loaves of cake, whose every other 
crumb seems a raisin. It is a very paradise of 
good things. No wonder that the children, who 
have been ordered to keep out of the kitchen, are 
clustered outside the door in the entry, snuffing 
the gales from the keyhole, and prancing about, 
impatient for dinner-time which never seemed so 
long in coming before. Thanksgiving comes 
but once a year, as little people know to their 
cost ; and when it comes they are bound to make 
the most of it. 

There are four of them, — Tom, who is nine 
years old; Phebe, seven ; Jerry, a solemn fellow 
of five and a half; and little Trot, just turned 
four, who by virtue of being the baby rules them 
all. For in large families we often see carrried 
out the Bible prediction which says The last 
shall be first — the smallest and meekest of all 
being allowed to have his own way and govern 
the others. 


GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 45 

Tom is long and thin ; Jerry short and fat ; 
Phebe has a meek face, with soft blue eyes and 
fair hair, and looks as innocent as a kitten, except 
for one roguish twist about her mouth ; Trot, a 
small person, is all bounce and activity, like an 
India-rubber ball or a snapping-cracker. They 
are very hungry and very impatient. 

‘‘This old morning is the longest I ever saw,” 
declared Tom. “ I ’m as hungry — as hungry as 
— as vinegar.” 

This is Tom’s favorite expression. He always 
compares everything to vinegar. 

“And I am as hundry as vinegar, too,” says 
Trot. 

“I know what we're going to have,” says 
Phebe, who, being a girl, had managed to creep 
into the kitchen once or twice. ‘^I saw mother 
making it.” 

“ Oh, what ? Tell us ! ” screamed Tom and J erry. 

“I know,” repeated Phebe. “I know all 
about it” And she shook her head mysteriously. 


46 GENERAL TROT'S THANKSGIVING DINNER 

“Do tell US. Oh, do tell!” clamored the 
others. And they teased and coaxed, till at last 
Phebe said, “ Put down your heads, then,” and 
in each ear whispered mysteriously the word 
“apple sauce.” 

“ Pshaw !” cried Tom. “ I knew that before. 
We always have apple sauce Thanksgiving, and 
turkey too, and chicken, and squash, and squash 
pie, and onions, and custard, and — ” 

“ Nuts,” chimed in Trot ; “ and little bits of 
teeny-weeny tarts.” 

“ Oh, dear ! ” cried Tom, “ it makes me hun- 
gry just to think of them. I wish dinner would 
come. Mother might give us something to eat, I 
do think.” 

“ Why, Tom, you ate thirteen buckwheats this 
morning at breakfast ; you know you did.^^ 

“Well, what if I did. You ate nine, and 
you ’re only a girl, besides, Phebe.” 

“ I had more ’n a hundred, I guess,” remarked 
Trot. 


GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 47 

This made them laugh. 

‘‘I tell you what,” said Tom, ^Met's go into 
the keeping-room and play at having dinner. 
We 'll play it is Thanksgiving, just as it really is ; 
and I 'll be father and sit at this end of the table.'' 

And I 'll be mother/' said Phebe, taking her 
chair. Jerry shall be Aunt Prudence; and 
Trot — who had you rather be, Trot?'’ 

“ General Grant/' vociferated Trot. “I'm 
making you a visit. My cannon *s in the entry, 
and here 's my sword ! I 've hung it on the 
back of the chair.'' 

“ Well, that 'll be nice ! I 'm glad there 's such 
a good dinner; ain't you, Pa, since General 
Grant’s here! I guess you had a great deal 
better things to eat, though, when you was fight- 
ing. Had n’t you. General 1 ” 

“Yes, splendid ! '' said the General. “I had — 
What did I have, Tom?” 

“ Rebel rams,” suggested Tom. 

Yes ; and the Confeds ran like sheep once, 


48 GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 

Pa said, so you could eat them, you know,’' went 
on Phebe. 

“I did!" said Trot — ‘^boiled 'em, and ate 
'em. They was bully I " 

^^Now," cried Phebe, seizing her mother’s 
button-bag, ‘4hese shall be the dinner. This 
big yellow button is the turkey ; these red ones 
are cranberry; and the white ones potatoes and 
turnips and rice. Then we 'll play this pink 
button is roast beef ; and the glass ones shall be 
our tumblers, and we 'll drink out of ’em. And 
here are the pies — mince and pumpkin and apple. 
Will you have some turkey, Pal" 

Help the General first, Ma ! It ain’t polite 
to begin with the family.” 

'Sense me. General, shall I help you to some 
turkey I” 

'Course,” answered the General, passing his 
button with great vigor. ‘^I'll have all the 
breast and the stuffing, and lots of gravy — but 
no drumsticks, 'cause generals don't ever eat 'em ; 



“ ‘ What delicious custard ! ’ cried Pliebe, pretending to take a large mouthful 
of pearl button.” Page 49. 



GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 49 

they give ’em to the drummer-boys always. And 
1 11 have the wish-bone ; and that ’s all.” 

General Grant thus moderately helped, Tom 
got a piece, and then Jerry. 

What (delicious custard ! ” cried Phebe, pre- 
tending to take a large mouthful of pearl button. 

I never ! ” 

And I never ! ” echoed General Grant, carv- 
ing his turkey very hard. 

Then Jerry asked for more potato and more 
apple sauce ; and Tom helped himself to onions 
and offered the others plum-pudding (which was 
a purple mixed button, like some on Phebe’s 
frock) ; and they ate and chattered, and the fun 
grew fast and furious. 

Suddenly General Grant began to choke and 
gag in a very singular manner. 

What’s the matter, General?’^ asked Tom. 
‘‘What’s gone wrong?” 

“ That turkey-bone is a-sticking in my throat,” 
gurgled Trot. 


4 


50 GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 

^^Tom!” cried Pliebe, in great alarm, do 
believe he ’s been and swallowed a button ! Have 
you, Trot I Oh dear ! what will Mother say I '' 
didn’t,” said Trot, recovering his voice. 

It wasn’t buttons ! It was tomato and turkey 
— oh ! — and pudding.^’ 

‘‘Why, he^s been eating them,” said Phebe. 
“ How many did you give him, Tom ? ” 

Nobody could tell. When they counted, ever 
so many seemed missing — red ones, and white 
ones, and yellow, two mixed purple (under the 
name of plum-pudding), four agate with gilt rims, 
and half a card of blue broadcloth like the boys’ 
Sunday jackets. All these Trot had disposed of, 
in the excitement of the game. He had thrown 
himself so thoroughly into his part as to forget it 
was all play, and had swallowed his button-dinner 
as contentedly as if it had really been the turkey 
and tomato they pretended it to be. 

The poor little General ! You can imagine 
what a commotion took place when the tale was 


GENERAL TROT’S THANKSGIVING DINNER 51 

told; how Mother and Aunt Prudence came 
rushing in, and Trot was kissed, and cried over, 
and questioned, till he, too, began to cry, and said 
he did n’t want to play any more.” The doctor 
was sent for; and Uncle Joe, who was rather 
gruff, scolded them all around, and said if Trot 
didn’t die before morning he ought to get the 
worst kind of a whipping! But, bless you, it 
takes more than a button or two to kill a general ! 
The doctor’s medicine made Trot a little uncom 
fortable ; but I never heard that the buttons did 
a bit. He forgot his griefs entirely by dinner- 
time, and enjoyed it like a hero, besides being 
then and all the evening after ‘^as bright as a 
button ” ; which, if eating buttons can make one 
so, is nothing remarkable. And when the real 
turkey and mince pie had taken their turn, and 
the nuts and apples and cider were brought out, 
the candles lit, and everybody had got over his 
fright and settled down for a jolly evening, the 
queer little adventure of the morning furnished 


52 GENERAL TROTS THANKSGIVING DINNER 

them with all sorts of fun, in which Trot, perched 
on his mother’s lap, joined as thoroughly as any- 
body. Aunt Prudence, for the first time in her 
life, made an original conundrum, which every- 
body guessed at once — only everybody gave a 
different answer. I ’ll give it you before I stop, 
and one of the answers ; the others you must find 
out for yourself. 

What is the difference between our General 
Grant and the real one I” 

Answer : One is a little man all over buttons 
outside, and the other is a little man all over 
buttons inside.” 


HAERY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 


H arry is a little boy, five years old. He 
lives in the city with his papa and 
mamma and his sister Elsie, who is not as old 
as he, and cannot go to school, as he does every 
day — not a big school, you know, but a few 
boys and girls about Harry’s age, who are all 
learning to read and write a little, and count a 
very little bit. It is a nice school, they think, 
with good long recesses and plenty of fun ; and, as 
they go at nine o’clock, and come home at twelve, 
and have no lessons to learn in the evenings, and 
as their teacher Miss Edwards is as nice as 
nice can be,” and ‘4he prettiest girl in New 
York,” as Harry insists, I think, on the whole, 
school is more pleasure than trouble. 

But, though Harry likes it, and is happy in his 
big nursery with his playthings, and though he 


56 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 


has a sled and goes out with it and has famous 
afternoons with the other boys when snow comes, 
still he has heard wonderful stories about boys 
who live in the country and can be all the time 
out of doors, playing ball in summer, and in 
winter sliding down lovely long hills on their 
sleds, or skating on ponds all by themselves 
with just as much room as they want for strik- 
ing out/' Though Harry is not big enough to 
skate, and does not know in the least how to 
strike out," still he thought the country must 
be the most charming thing in the world, and 
used to be always talking about it and wishing 
he could go there. So he was almost topsy-turvy 
with joy when he found, last July, that he was to 
go with his papa and mamma and good Nurse Nora 
to the real country — ever so far off, to a place with 
mountains and hills all over it,” as Harry said 
— and to stay there at least two months. 

So, while Nurse Nora was packing the trunks, 
Harry danced about her in a state of wild excite- 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 57 

ment, and asked more questions than ten grown 
people could have answered. 

“ And what lives in the mountains, Nursey I 
can’t tell you, Master Harry. Birds, I 
should think, and blueberries,. belike.” 

Yes ; and bears ! ” said Harry — “ great black 
bears ! I ’ve read about ’em in the geography.” 

“ Sure there ’ll be no bears,” said poor Nora, 
who was not so well acquainted with geography 
as Harry; ^^the master wouldn’t take you to 
such a place.” 

“Yes, there will; I tell you there will ! ” per- . 
sisted Harry — “ there will be bears on the 
mountains. Who ’s afraid of a bear 1 They 
ain’t very big; and if one runs after you, all 
you ’ve got to do is to climb up a tree, and there 
you are, all fixed, and the bear can’t get you. 
I’ve read about them in Captain Mayne Reid; 
and every word he says is true ! I just hope one 
will chase after me ; I ’d show you ! ” And 
Harry, putting himself into a warlike attitude, 


58 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 

first repelled the bear of his fancy with the bel- 
lows ; and then, pretending to be hotly pursued, 
climbed the bedpost with great speed, and sat on 
top, making triumphant faces at the baffled foe, 
who was supposed to be gnashing his teeth with 
rage under the bed. 

You see that Harry was a little given to boast- 
ing, like other boys of his age ; but it is a bad 
trick, and always ends by making people laugh 
at you. I used to tell Harry a story of a boy I 
once knew, who went to live with some little 
cousins whom he had never seen. He was only 
four years old, but he spent the whole of the first 
day in strutting up and down the nursery, brag- 
ging of the great things he had done and could 
do. ‘^Robbers’' were his great boast. He was 
never afraid of them — even when they came by 
the dozen, all jack-boots, big black whiskers, and 
sharp knives. He never ran, not he ! He stood 
his ground, and they ran away from him as fast as 
their legs could carry them. 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 59 


Well, that night he was put to bed in a little 
room by himself. And by and by his Aunty 
downstairs heard a terrible howling and scream- 
ing going on, and running up, found this brave 
hero sitting up in bed, and crying as if his heart 
would break. 

^‘What is the matter, my dear child?” said 
Aunty. 

There is a r-o-o-b-b-e-r under my bed,” 
sobbed the little boy. 

A robber, dear ? Nonsense ! There ’s noth- 
ing there.” 

Yes, there is ! ” persisted he. I heard him ; 
he ’s chewing my India-rubbers ^ 

Harry thought this story very funny, and used 
to laugh a great deal at it ; but it did n’t cure him 
of his habit of boasting. So he too came to grief, 
as you will see. 

Harry thought he was going to be perfectly 
happy when he first saw the village where they 
were going to spend the summer. It stood on a 


60 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 

hillside, and you could see off on all sides for 
miles and miles, and more mountains than you 
could count. J ust behind the hotel rose a high, 
steep hill, called Bald Head, and people used often 
to climb to the top to see the view, which they 
said was very fine. 

At first Harry found plenty to keep him happy 
and busy in the woods, which came down close 
to the house. There were some dear little brooks, 
in which he and other children used to build dams 
and bridges of boughs, covered with moss; and 
there were nice hiding-places among the rocks for 
hide-and-go-seek. The woods were so near and 
safe that his mother was not afraid to have him 
go there alone ; and that he liked best of all, it 
made him feel so grown-up and independent. 
He would come in at dinner-time with cheeks as 
red as apples, and clothes as wet and muddy as if 
he had been rolled in the dirt. But his mamma 
only laughed when she saw him, and never 
scolded; for she knew that health was a great 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 61 

deal better than nice clothes, and was quite satis- 
fied as long as she saw him happy and with such 
a famous appetite. 

It was rather a pity that the other children in 
the hotel happened to be a little younger than 
Harry, for it made it easier for him to keep up 
his habit of boasting. He was always telling them 
what he could do, and would do, and had done. 
He especially enjoyed the subject of bears, and 
used to be so noisy and fierce that the little ones 
admired him a great deal and believed every word 
he said. 

Harry heard somebody saying one day that 
bears had been known, in cold weather, to come 
down from Bald Head on to the roads, in search 
of something to eat ; so he was wildly anxious to 
go with all the parties that started to walk up, 
in his secret heart hoping he might be lucky 
enough to meet a bear, or perhaps several, which 
would be still finer. He teased his mother about 
it a great many times. But she thought he was 


62 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 

too young, and would be tired out, and hinder the 
pleasure of the older people; so she said ‘‘No,” 
which Harry thought very hard. 

At last, one night at tea he heard some ladies 
talking about a walk to Bald Head the very next 
day. His papa and mamma were to go, and they 
were to start at ten o’clock, so as to be back to 
dinner. 

All this put into Harry’s head a very rash plan ; 
and, after he went to bed, he lay thinking it over, 
and at last made up his mind to carry it out. You 
shall hear what it was. 

Only to run away next morning, as soon as his 
breakfast was over, and climb the mountain all by 
himself! 

“ If they find me on top when they get there,” 
thought Master Harry, “ they can’t send me back ; 
and that will jprove to Mamma (Harry was fond of 
long words) that I am big enough to go to places 
with big people.” 

So next morning as soon as he could swallow 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 63 


his breakfast, he stole away and ran as fast as he 
could along the path which led to the mountain. 
Nobody missed him, for they supposed he was at 
play with the other children. 

At first it seemed fine fun to climb a mountain. 
The path was not steep, and the whortleberries 
were ripe; so that, when he stopped to take 
breath, he had something pleasant to fill his hands 
and mouth with. But by and by the bushes 
began to grow higher; and Harry was such a 
little fellow that the boughs slapped his face as 
he climbed up, and that he did not like at all. 

However, he broke off a stick, and struck the 
boughs aside as well as he could ; but the path 
grew harder to climb, and twisted and turned in 
and out of the thicket, and the sun began to be 
very hot. Poor Harry panted and puffed ; but 
still he struggled on bravely, till at last a root 
tripped him up and threw him forward on his face. 
He jumped up at once; but his hands were 
scratched, and his nose began to bleed. So, 


64 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 

though he was really a manly little fellow, for all 
his bragging, he felt exactly like sitting down and 
having a good cry. 

This, he knew, however, would never do for a 
conqueror of bears ; so he made a plucky effort, 
wiped his face and hands as well as he could, and 
went a little farther on. 

But now he began to be very tired. The walk 
was really too hard for such a little fellow ; and 
Harry began to have an idea that his mamma 
was right, though he did not like to own it. The 
woods closed him in on every side. He thought 
how dreadful it would be to get lost in them, and 
felt very little and lonely all at once. However, 
he knew he was in the path, and a good way up 
the hill, though not almost on top,’' as he 
would have said. So he thought he would sit 
down on a large flat rock he saw, which was 
covered with soft moss, like a cushion, and looked 
very comfortable, and rest till the party came 
from the hotel, Finding him so far up, he 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 65 


thought he was safe not to he sent back; and, 
with the help of his papa^s hand, he knew he 
could get to the rocky top, which he could see 
far above his head. 

So he sat down, and began to think what a 
fine thing he had done, and how the other chil- 
dren would wonder when they knew about it. 
And then he spied a large black ant scrambling 
over some stiff red moss close by; and, having 
nothing else to do, he began to teaze him. The 
moss was wiry and sharp, and as hard for the ant 
to climb as a hedge of prickly cacti would be 
for a man ; so it was cruel and discouraging to be 
seized by the hind-leg and jerked back by Harry 
every time he had nearly climbed over. At last 
he gave it up, and lay still as if he was dead ; and 
just at that moment Harry heard a rushing in 
the bushes, and looking up saw a dreadful sight. 
What do you think? A large black bear just 
opposite him, and sitting quite still on his hind- 
legs ! Half of him was hid by the bushes, which 
5 


66 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 

were very thick ; but Harry could see his fore- 
paws and his head. His mouth was a little open, 
and (this was most dreadful of all) two sharp 
white teeth were plainly to be seen. He did not 
move in the least, and his eyes seemed to be 
shut, for Harry could not see them ; but yet he 
did not dare to hope that he was asleep. 

If any of you consider Harry a coward, you 
must try to think how you would feel if you 
should go into the woods alone some day, and 
meet a great black bear all at once. He was 
so dreadfully scared that he could not stir, and 
sat as still as the bear, staring right in his face. 
He was too frightened even to cry; and as for 
running away, his legs felt all of a sudden as if 
they were made of lead, and were too heavy and 
stiff to move. So he sat and glared at the bear, 
who did not glare, but showed his teeth, as if to 
say : Take these as a sample of the set ; don’t 
you think they could eat you ? " 

-Every now and then some little rustling noise 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 67 

would come, and Harry would shake all over, 
and think, Now he is going to begin.” But the 
bear never moved an inch — just sat there and 
showed his teeth! 

When Harry told the story afterward, he said 
that they staid so hours and hours — ’most a 
whole day’^; but it was really about twenty 
minutes. Then a sound of voices was heard, and 
Harry's papa and a lady came in sight, climbing 
up the path. 

Even then Harry did not dare to move, for fear 
the bear might make a rush and carry him off before 
the very eyes of his friends. It was not till they 
were so near that he almost touched them that he 
at last gave a spring, and, catching hold of Papa’s 
coat, began to cry as if his heart would break. 

Why, Harry ! ” said Papa, and Why, 
Harry ! ” came from below, whence Mamma, on 
her way up, caught sight of her unexpected boy. 

Oh ! Papa; the bear 1 the bear ! ” sobbed poor 
Harry, as soon as he could speak. 


68 HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 


The bear ! What do you mean, my boy ? 

There ! there ! cried Harry, pointing into 
the bushes. 

Wonderful to relate, the bear had not moved. 
Harry’s papa raised his stick, and went close up 
to it. Still it did not move. Then he laid his 
hand upon it, and then burst out laughing. 

“ Come here, Harry,’' said he. 

Poor Harry crept up slowly, not feeling safe 
yet ; and, when he was close to it, what do you 
think the great black bear turned into ^ Nothing 
in the world but a large black stump. 

There it lay, half in, half out of the bushes; and 
a little way off it really looked very like a bear 
sitting on his hind-legs, with his forepaws raised. 
As for the sharp white teeth which frightened 
Harry so much, they were only two little pointed 
fungi, of the kind which grow on old trees, and 
happened in this case to be just where the wooden 
bear’s mouth would come. His father broke them 
off and showed them to Harry. 


HARRY’S FORENOON WITH THE BEAR 69 

You can guess that they all laughed. But 
they were sorry for the poor little fellow, with 
his white cheeks and red eyes ; and his father 
lifted him up very tenderly, and took him back 
to the hotel, where he was glad enough to see 
Nurse Nora’s kind face, and to have some milk to 
drink, and lie down on the nursery bed for a 
good nap. When he waked up, his mamma was 
sitting by him, and he got into her lap, and told 
her how it all happened, and how sorry and 
frightened he had been. And she kissed him, as 
dear mammas always will when their children 
are really sorry, and forgave him for thinking 
himself wise and big enough to disobey her. I 
am happy to say that Harry has been very good 
ever since, and has almost cured himself of his 
habit of boasting ; and we hope that he will 
be better all his life for the excellent lesson he 
learned that morning with the bear. 






'' 7 . VI 




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THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 



IHE importance of homo missionary work 


JL is pressing daily with greater force upon 
all reflecting minds. First provide for thine 
own ; that is Bible precept.'^ 

This was what Papa read aloud from the paper 
at breakfast one morning ; and Alice and May, 
with their mouths full of buckwheat cakes, were 
listening with their ears wide open, though they 
did n’t know just what it meant. 

‘‘What is home missionaries, Papal” asked 
little May. 

“ You know what missionaries are, don’t you, 
dear I” 

“Yes, Papa, I guess I do. They’re good 
people, is n’t they, who sail round the world and 
teach the Bible to the heathens I ” 


74 THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 

^^Well, home missionaries are good men who 
teach the Bible without sailing round the world. 
You know dear, there are plenty of poor, wicked 
people in this country, too ; and the missionaries 
go to them and try to make them better, and 
show them how to read the Bible and find out 
about God and all good things.’’ 

Where do they go. Papa ? said Alice. 

“Oh, some of them go to the West, pet; and 
some to the Indians, and some to teach the black 
people at the South. Some of them stay here in 
New York, and have schools for poor little boys 
and girls, and nice places for them to sleep in at 
night. Should you like some day to go down 
town with me and see one I ” 

“ I ’d like to he one,” said little May. 

“Well, my darling, you’ll have the chance 
some time. The Lord always sends work to 
willing hands. Even a little girl can help along 
in the home missionary cause. I ’d love to have 
my two useful in that way.” 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


75 


And so saying, Papa folded up his paper, 
kissed them all round, and started off for his 
office. This was all he said about the mission- 
aries ; but it put a funny idea into the children’s 
heads, as you shall hear. 

wish we knew how to begin,” said Alice to 
May, that afternoon. ^‘Papa said even little 
girls like us could.” 

Perhaps we ’re too little,” said May, who was 
very little. They were in their play-room in the 
attic when they began to talk. It was a splendid 
place, big and square and empty, with funny 
hiding-places down where the low part of the 
roof came, and plenty of empty boxes and odds 
and ends which they might move about and 
meddle with as much as they liked. For Mamma 
said that little people must have a play-place of 
their own to make them happy on rainy days. 
So she gave them this to do what they liked in ; 
and always when it was bad weather, and they 
couldn’t go out doors, they came up here and 


76 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


had a lovely time. All their toys were kept 
here ; and here they told their secrets, and had a 
postoffice, and wrote each other little notes, 
which were very interesting and important, for, 
as they were hardly ever apart, they generally 
read them with their heads close together and 
their arms about each other’s necks. 

They were whispering now — not that there 
was the least danger of anybody’s hearing what 
they said, but because they liked it. 

“ I don’t believe we ’re a bit too little,” said 
Alice. I ’m not at any rate ; and you could 
help me, you know. May, even if you ’re too 
small to do it alone.” 

“So I could,” said May, looking very bright. 
She liked to help Alice. 

“You see,” Alice went on, “perhaps weTe not 
big enough to teach schools for a good many poor 
children. But I think, if we could find one — 
just one, you know — who wasn’t very big, we 
might teach her as far as we ’ve got — First 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


77 


Reader, you know, and up to seven times one, and 
the boundaries ; that would take a good while, and 
we should be keeping ahead of her all the time.” 

And make a nice place for her to sleep,’’ added 
May, her eyes sparkling. 

“ May, you ’re real clever. I never thought of 
that. Let’s see, where could we put her? It 
must be where she ’d not be a trouble to anybody 
but just us. Oh ! May, I ’ve thought. She shall 
live up here in our play-room ! We ’ll make a 
bed, and fix it all nice, and nobody ’ll find it out 
till she ’s grown up and knows how to read and 
all; and then we’ll bring her downstairs. Won’t 
Papa and Mamma be surprised ? 

Oh, goody ! Is n’t that splendid I cried May, 
dancing about the attic. Where shall we put 
the bed?” 

Let ’s see,” said Alice. That big box would 
be nice, I guess ; because then there ’ll be room 
for her to grow up. And here ’s the cushion of 
your old crib to go in it, and a lovely comforter 


78 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


to keep her warm. Do you see any pillows any- 
where I ’’ 

Only the one in my dolly’s bedstead/’ replied 
May. 

Well, that ’ll do as long as she ’s little — it ^s 
pretty big. Now, her bed ’s all nice ; and we’ 11 
bring up the Reader and Spelling-book, and then 
we shall be all ready.” 

‘‘But she must have something to eat/’ said 
May, who was very wise for such a little thing. 

“ So she must. We ’ll save things from break- 
fast and dinner for her, won’t we ? I guess Nurse 
would give us some crackers now, if we ask her.” 

So down they ran. Nurse was happy to give 
them as many crackers as they wanted ; and they 
picked out a clean little box to keep them in and 
serve as a storeroom. Every day they contrived 
to save something — sometimes bread, sometimes 
a bit of cheese, or a little dried beef, or an apple 
— things they thought would keep. 

And now the box was nearly full, the bed was 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 79 

made, and the books brought up and arranged 
with marks at the first lesson. All was ready 
except the little girl ; but that was an important 
exception! Where was she to come from! 

You know,’' said Alice, Papa said the Lord 
always sent work to willing hands. So, when he 
is ready, he ’ll send us our little girl.” 

But they waited day after day, and she did n’t 
come. The bread got very dry and the apples 
began to spoil. Matters looked desperate. So 
one day Alice took a sudden idea. 

Home missionaries don’t wait for people to 
come,” she said ; they go and find ’em. We ’ll 
run right down to the alley. May ; and, if we find 
a poor little girl there, we shall know that the 
Lord sent her.” 

So down they ran to the back gate ; and, sure 
enough, the first thing they saw was a little girl, 
about as big as Alice, walking along, kicking up 
the dirt with the toes of her boots. Ah I here she 
was at last. 


80 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


^‘Little child/^ cried Alice, running up to her, 
please come in here. We want to show you 
something.’^ 

The “little child” was willing enough to go 
into the nice house with the pretty little sisters ; 
so in she came. She was dirty and ragged enough 
to please anybody ; and Alice felt very proud as 
she led her into the garret. 

“ I ^m so glad you Ve come,’' she said ; “ we ’re 
all ready for you. Here ’s your bed, and here are 
the books — you ’ll soon be able to read them.” 

“And here^s your dinner,” broke in May — 
“ all these nice apples and crackers ; and we ’ll 
stay up here With you every minute of the time 
when we’re not in school.” 

“ Yes ! ” cried Alice. “ You ’ll be glad to hear 
us coming, won’t you? And you must never 
make any noise or look out of the window, for 
fear people’ll find you out. And by and by, 
when you’re quite grown up, we’ll take you 
downstairs and tell them all about it.” 









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“‘I’m so glad you ’ve come,’ she said ; ‘ we ’re all ready for you.’ ” 

Page 80 . 


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THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


81 


The little girl looked from one to the other, 
with her eyes growing wild and scared ; but, when 
Alice ended with this dreadful news, that she was 
to stay there till she was quite grown up, and 
never even peep out of the window, she was almost 
frightened to death. In a great hurry she twitched 
her hand away ; and before they knew what she 
was about she was half way downstairs, racing 
off as fast as her feet could carry her. 

The children were much distressed. Stop, 
little girl. Oh, please come back ! ” they cried, 
and ran after her. But she did t answer a word ; 
and as for coming back, that did not seem likely, 
for when they reached the alley-gate she was quite 
out of sight. They ran this way and that, calling 
to her ; but she was gone, and they never saw her 
again. 

Little May burst out crying, and even Alice 
could not keep back the tears. They were too 
disappointed to hide it; and, meeting Mamma just 

then, they opened their hearts and told her all 
6 


82 


THE TWO LITTLE MISSIONARIES 


about it. She could n^t help laughing a little; 
but she kissed and comforted them, and, when 
they began to feel better, explained to them how 
their way was not the best one to do good, and 
that they had no right to make the little girl come 
and live in the attic against her will. 

So they gave up the plan, and let cook take the 
(very dry) provisions away to give to some poor 
person who might like them. And when they 
grow up, as they will some day, they will see what 
Papa meant by Grod sending work ; and I hope 
their hands will be as willing then as now. 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 



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NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


I T was the thirteenth of February, rather late 
in the afternoon, and Ned Price and Sam 
Allen were down on the ground in the fence- 
corner putting on their skates. There was pretty 
good ice still, though the weather had grown so 
warm that there seemed little chance of its lasting 
long. And the boys had run all the way from 
school, so as to make the most of what might be 
the last good skate of that winter. 

Ned had one skate buckled, and Sam was 
drilling a hole with his knife in the heel of his 
boot, when they heard voices close by — in the 
next yard, in fact; only, as the fence was high 
and the field rather low, they couldn’t see the 
speakers. The yard belonged to Mrs. O’Rourke, 
the washer-woman ; and it was little Nanny 


86 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


O’Roul'ke who was talking, and a young friend 
of hers named Katy. 

Nanny was a dear, good child, with pretty 
blue eyes and soft curly hair ; but her face looked 
pale and sickly, and her poor little body was 
somewhat deformed. A careless nurse had 
dropped her when she was a baby, and her back 
had never been straight since. You didn’t 
think much of it, though, when you saw the 
sweet look she had, and knew how patient and 
loving and bright she was all day long. Every- 
body liked her, and her mother said she would n’t 
exchange her for twenty children, each twelve 
feet high and as stiff-backed as a grenadier ; and, 
indeed, I think it would have been a bad bargain 
for the poor woman — for so many children, 
especially such enormously big ones, would soon 
have eaten up all she could earn, and a great 
deal more. But Nanny, just as she was, seemed 
a real comfort, and as bright and helpful as a 
little girl of seven could be. 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


87 


She and Katy were swinging on the gate 
opposite each other, and the boys could easily 
hear every word they said. At first they did n’t 
attend much ; but by and by Katy got talking so 
fast that they began to listen. 

“ And I told her, ‘ What ’s that, Biddy I ’ And 
she said, ^ Never mind ! ’ But she let me look 
once ; and it was splendid ! There was silver 
things atop, you know ; and pink roses and blue 
roses ; and then a writing, ^ From your Valentine,’ 
and it cost sixteen cents down to Sperry’s; and 
she puts the name outside and carried it to the 
corner, and says nothing ; but I guessed it out.” 

Oh, who do you think, Katy I ” cried Nanny, 
quite excited. 

^^Addie Sherman, or else Tom. I don’t 
rightly know; but there was a big ‘S.’ Oh, 
Nanny, wouldn’t you like one yourself?” 

Yes,’^ said Nanny. Don’t you wish some- 
body ^d send us one I I never had a valentine. 
Did you ? ” 


88 NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 

Never but just one/’ replied Katy; ^^and 
that was a bit of a five-cent one, which my 
brother he sent it. But a grand one like Biddy’s 
— : oh, Nanny, would n’t that be fine ? ” 

Perhaps we will some time,” said Nanny ; 
but I’m afraid I’m not big enough this year.” 

Just hear those girls,” whispered Sam. ‘^Did 
you ever ! I wonder who they think is going to 
send ’em valentines ! And that little Nanny, 
with her hunch-back — she'll never get one as 
long as she lives.” 

“ Yes, she shall too, if I send it myself,” said 
Ned, flushing. And you ought to be ashamed 
of yourself, Sam, to call her a hunchback; for 
she ’s the dearest little thing in town, mother says, 
if she is a little crooked. I ’ve heard mother wish 
more than once that she had a girl of her own 
half so sweet.” 

^^I call her an ugly little piece,” muttered 
Sam, as he took his first long stroke half across 
the pond; and then the boys got so busy in 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


89 


skating that they didn’t talk any more on the 
subject. 

But Sam did not forget it. He was not exactly 
a bad boy; but he was hard and selfish, and 
didn’t care much about other people and their 
feelings, and it always made him mad to be 
snubbed, as he called it. So, when that evening 
he happened to catch sight of Ned just coming 
from the book-store, with a gay valentine in his 
hand, he guessed it might be meant for Nanny; 
and somehow the idea made him cross, and a plan 
for teazing her came into his head. So he too 
went in and bought one. And that evening he 
followed Ned about and watched behind fences 
till he saw him steal into Mrs. O’Rourke’s yard 
and fasten a parcel to the door-knob ; and, as soon 
as he was gone, he stole in too, tied a second 
parcel above the first, gave a good loud rap with 
his knuckles, and ran away. 

Mrs. O’Rourke was sitting by the stove with 
Nanny in her lap, when the rap came. She had 


90 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


done a hard day’s work, and was resting a little 
and petting her darling before eating the supper 
which stood ready on the table. But when the 
knock came she set her down and went to the 
door. 

Holy Virgin, what is it I ” she exclaimed, 
as the two parcels swung round and hit her 
hand. There’s nobody here at all, but just 
these bits of letters.” And she untied them, and 
shut the door again. “You can read writing, 
darling,” she went on, for Nanny went to school, 
and her knowledge was a cause of great pride 
to her mother, who didn’t know how to read 
herself. 

“Oh, Mother, there’s ^ Nanny O’Rourke’ on 
both of them,” cried she. “And I do believe 
they’re valentines. Katy and me was talking 
about ’em only to-night. Is n’t it nice ! Oh, is n’t 
it nice ! ” And she jumped and clapped her hands. 

Mrs. O’Rourke lighted a candle and put it on 
the table. “ You ’ll want light to enjoy them by, 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 91 

dear,” she said, and rubbed her hands too — so 
pleased to see her child happy. 

Nanny was opening one of the valentines with 
fingers that shook with pleasure. But how her 
little face fell when she saw what was inside. If 
Sam could have been there, I think he would have 
been more sorry than he ever was in his life before 
at the success of his cruel trick. 

^‘Oh, Mammy! Mammy!” she sobbed, “how 
could they, how could they ? ” And she held out 
the paper. It was a vile daub of a picture — an 
ugly figure, with a great hump on its back, and 
under it was written in a sprawling hand : That ’s 
how you ’ll look when you ’re grown up.” 

Poor Nanny ! she was so grieved that it seemed 
as if she could not get over it. She sat crying 
on her mother’s lap a long time ; and Mrs. 
O’Rourke petted and soothed her, and called her 
a “ sweet darlin’ ” and “ Mammy’s own beauty 
and sunshine,” till by and by the little lips ceased 
to quiver and the sobs grew quiet. She sat quite 


92 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


still, and did not seem to remember the other 
letter; till at last her mother said : Won’t you 
be opening this one, dear ? Maybe it ’s some- 
thing nice.” 

I ’m afraid of it,” said Nanny ; perhaps it ^11 
be bad, too.” But she took it, for all that, and 
broke the seal. 

Oh, how different this one was ! There was 
the silver dove, and the blue and pink roses, just 
like that of which Katy was telling her, and a 
dear little boy with gilt wings sitting in a shell 
with wheels, and driving a lamb with a chain of 
flowers round his neck ; and underneath was 
written this verse : 

“ Dear little Blue Eyes, I love you well, 

Better thau pen and ink can tell, 

And that my meaning may plainly be seen 
I ’ve concluded to write it in letters of green. 

‘ ‘ When the Spring is once fairly here, 

Go and look in your garden, dear, 

There you ’ll see growing in the sunshine 
The name of my chosen 


Valentine.*^ 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 93 

Oh ! cried Nanny, with sparkling eyes, 

is n’t it beautiful ? I never did see anything so 
sweet. Oh, Mother, was n’t it kind in somebody 
to send it to me ? ” 

‘‘ Yes,’’ said Mrs. O’Rourke, it was that ! 
I’d like to thank him for it myself.” 

“But what will I see in my garden when 
spring comes?” went on Nanny. “How can 
names grow in gardens. Mammy ? I can’t 
think.” 

Mammy did n’t know ; but she saw that her pet 
had forgotten all about the ugly, unkind valen- 
tine. So she took the first chance to drop it into 
the fire, hoping it would never be thought of 
again ; and I don’t think it was, for Nanny was 
one of those dear little souls who find it easier to 
be happy than unhappy, and forget disagreeable 
things as soon as they can, and she was so 
pleased at her beautiful valentine that she did n’t 
think any more of the one that had made her 
cry so hard at first. 


94 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


March passed, and April, with warm rains and 
bright sun, came on, and the little patch she 
called her garden became ten times as interesting 
as ever before to Nanny. She raked and 
smoothed it all ready for planting ; but she put 
no seeds into it, and went out every day to look 
at it, and see if the verses were coming true, and 
something wonderful springing up out of the 
ground. And when the first of May came some- 
thing strange did appear: the earth began to 
crack in a queer zigzag all across the bed, and in 
the cracks a row of tiny green points to push 
themselves up, getting bigger every day. 

It was like a miracle ! Nanny visited the 
garden the first thing every morning and the 
last thing at night ; and every moment she could 
get out of school she spent there, watching the 
wonderful things grow. By and by they were 
so big that they made a thick, green, even line ; 
and then it could plainly be seen that they grew 
in the shape of letters, and those letters spelled 


NANNY AND HER VALENTINES 


95 


a word. What do you think it was ? N-A-N-N-Y ! 

Never did any simple trick give so much 
pleasure before. Mrs. O’Rourke was never tired 
of bringing people in to see the sight; and, 
among the rest, Ned Price had the privilege of a 
peep, and the satisfaction of seeing Nanny dan- 
cing with joy all around the letters he had planted 
— for, of course, you have guessed it was his 
doing. He had come very early one morning to 
the garden; and, after drawing the letters with 
the point of a stick, had sowed peppergrass seeds 
in the lines, and then smoothed it all over, so 
that no one would suspect till they came up. 
And now, as he watched little Nanny’s happiness 
over it, he enjoyed it almost as much as she. It 
was a little thing ; but life is made up of such. 

Now, which of the two boys, do you think, got 
most pleasure out of his valentine — Ned Price 
or Sam Allen ? 




THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR, 
CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 






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THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR, 
CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 

A cunning fox perceived some turkeys roosting securely on the 
bough of a high tree. Unable to climb, he resolved to get at them in 
another way. Night after night he stationed himself beneath the tree, 
and there played off all sorts of curious tricks. He jumped, he capered, 
he turned somersaults, he walked on his hind legs, he pretended to be 
dead, he raised and expanded his tail until, in the moonlight, it looked 
like a flame of fire, — in short, he performed every antic conceivable. 
The turkeys, who, to sleep in safety, had only to turn their backs and 
forget the fox, were so agitated and excited by his pranks that for 
whole nights they never closed their eyes; the consequence was that 
they lost' strength, and one by one dropped from the bough and into 
the jaws of Renard, who soon made an end of them. 

Moral. — It is unwise to concern one’s self with the tricks and 
antics of mischievous persons. — La Fontaine's Fables. 

I T was midsummer at the old Brush Farm. 

When I say midsummer,” how many pretty 
things it means, — woods at their freshest and 
greenest, meadows sweet with newly cut hay, 
cinnamon-roses in the hedges and water-lilies in 
the ponds, bees buzzing in and out of the clove- 

pinks and larkspurs which edge the beds of 

LOfC, 


100 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 


cabbages and carrots in the kitchen-garden, a 
humming-bird at work in the scarlet trumpets of 
the honeysuckle on the porch, — everywhere the 
sense of fulness and growth, with no shadow as 
yet of rankness or decay. August is over-ripe. 
September’s smile is sad, but midsummer is all 
rosy hope, the crown and blossom of the year. 

Charley Brush lay under an apple-tree, face 
downward, and absorbed in ^‘The Red Rover,” a 
book he had read at least ten times before. Stories 
about ships and sea-life and freebooters and buc- 
caneers were his favorite reading, and, unfortu- 
nately, what with illustrated papers and cheap 
novels and so-called Boys’ books,” plenty of 
such tales abound nowadays. I say unfortu- 
nately, for beside teaching him nothing, these 
books made Charley utterly dissatisfied with his 
life at home. Hoeing vegetables, chopping wood, 
and going to the district school seemed dull work 
indeed to a boy who was longing to stand sword 
in hand on a bloodstained deck, in a gory uni- 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 101 


form trimmed with skulls and crossbones, and 
order his enemies to be thrown one by one into 
the sea. The shark awaits your car-casses ! ” 
spouted the imaginary desperado with a vicious 
snap of his teeth; and when Aunt Greg inter- 
rupted by asking him to bring in an armful of 
kindling, he glared at her like the Red Rover 
himself. Poor Aunt Greg ! how little she guessed 
what was passing in his mind ! 

You look real pale to-day,” she said. I was 
afraid all that mince pie for supper would be bad 
for you. Here, Charley, I 'll mix you some gin- 
ger-and- water. That 'll settle you, and make all 
right again." 

^^Mis-cre-ant! " was what Charley yearned to 
say, but instead he muttered gruffly, I ain’t sick, 
and I don’t want no ginger." Very bad grammar, 
as you perceive ; but grammar seemed such 
an unnecessary accomplishment for a would-be 
buccaneer that Charley never could be induced 
to pay the least attention to it. 


102 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

That afternoon, under the apple-tree, he made 
up his mind. A pirate he must and he would be, 
by fair means or by foul. He was cunning enough 
to know that the very word ^‘pirate’" would 
frighten his grandmother into fits, so he only asked 
her leave to go to sea. Going to sea was, to his 
mind, a necessary first step toward the noble pro- 
fession he desired to enter. 

I want to so bad,” he whined. Please say 
I may.” 

Grandmother began to cry. Aunt Hitty was 
sure he must be out of his mind, and ran for the 
Epsom salts. Aunt Greg quoted, There ’s no 
place like home,” and told a story about a boy she 
once heard of who ran away to sea and never came 
back, foundered or drowndered,” she couldn’t 
remember which. Aunt Prue seized his shoulders 
and gave him a sound shake. This was what came 
of idling over story-books all day long, she said, 
— he could just shut up and go and give the pig 
its supper, and not let her hear any more trash 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 103 


like that — making them all feel so bad about 
nothing. 

Charley twisted his shoulder out of her grasp 
with a scowl, but he took the pail and went out 
to the pen. All the time that piggy ate he was 
considering what to do. ‘‘I’ll tease ^em/' he 
decided, “ and tease and tease, and then they ’ll 
let me go.” 

So he did tease, and plead and expostulate, but 
it was all in vain. Grandmother and the aunts 
could not be reached by any of his entreaties, and 
at the end of a week he seemed as far from his 
desire as ever. 

You will wonder, perhaps, that Charley did not 
run away, as so many boys do in books, and a few 
out of them. Somehow he never thought of that. 
He was not a hardy, adventurous fellow at all. 
His desire to go to sea was a fancy born of foolish 
reading, and he wanted to have his going made 
easy for him. 

“I must set to work in another way,” he 


104 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

thought at last. ‘^Asking of ’em ain’t no 
use. I must make ’em want to have me go.” 
Then he fell to thinking how this could be 
done. 

^^Aunt Hitty would n’t hold out long if the 
others didn’t/’ he thought. ‘‘I could coax her 
into it as easy as fun. She’ll do anything if 
I kiss and pet her a bit. Then there ’s Aunt 
Greg, — she thinks so much of poetry and such 
stuff. I ’ll hunt up the pieces in the ^ Reader ' 
about ‘ The sea, the sea, the deep blue sea,’ and 
all that, and learn ’em and say ’em to her, and 
I ’ll tell her about coral groves and palm-trees, 
and make her think it’s the jimmiest thing going 
to sail off and visit ’em. Grandmother’s always 
bothering about my being sick, and afraid of this 
and afraid of that ; so I ’ll just he sick — so sick 
that nothing but a viyage ’ll cure me ! As for 
Aunt Prue, ’t ain’t no use trying to impose on her. 
I guess I ’ll have to be real hateful and trouble- 
some to Aunt Prue. I’ll tease pussy and slop 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 105 


on the pantry shelves, and track up the floor 
every time she mops it, and leave the dipper in 
the sink, and all the other things she don't like, 
and by and by she’ll be just glad to see the last 
of me ! Hi ! — that ’ll fetch ’em all ! ” 

He ended his reflections with a chuckle. 
Charley wasn’t really a bad boy, — not bad 
through and through, that is, — but he had a 
cunning, tricky side to his nature which made 
him like to play on the weaknesses of his grand- 
mother and aunts. A sharp boy may prove more 
than a match for four unsuspecting old women ; 
and though in this case they were in the right 
and he in the wrong, none the less was he likely 
to succeed in his crafty plans. 

He waited a few days to let opposition subside, 
and then began his tricks. Charley’s first victim 
was Aunt Hitty. She was a gentle, weak-minded 
person, easy to persuade, and when Charley put 
his head into her lap and called her coaxing 
names, and was sure she was too kind to disap- 


106 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

point him in the thing he was set upon, her heart 
softened, and she began to think that they all had 
been hard and unkind. ^^The dear boy wants to 
go awful bad,’’ she told Aunt Greg, and to her 
surprise Aunt Greg did not fly out and scold as 
she had expected, but answered, with a sigh, I 
suppose sailing on the ocean is beautiful ! ” 
Aunt Greg had never seen the ocean in her life, 
but she was naturally romantic; and Charley, 
who had been hard at work at the ‘‘Reader,” 
had crammed her with all sorts of poetical quo- 
tations and fancies concerning it. Flying fish, 
coral islands, pole stars, dolphins, gallant mari- 
ners, wet sheets and flowing seas, figured largely 
in these extracts, but there was no mention what- 
ever of storms, sharks, drowning, hard work, or 
anything disagreeable. Aunt Greg could not 
see the charm of “ wet sheets,” but all the 
rest sounded delightful; and gradually a picture 
formed itself in her mind of a sea which was 
always blue and always smooth, and of Charley 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 107 

standing on the deck of a ship repeating poetry 
to himself in the moonlight ; and her opposition 
grew feebler and feebler. 

Charley ’s got a lot of ideas in his head/’ she 
said one day when she and her sisters were slic- 
ing apples for drying. ^^He ain’t no common 
boy, Charley ain’t. He ’ll make a mark yet — 
see if he don’t.” 

Dear little fellow ! ” sighed Aunt Hitty. So 
lovin’ and affectionate ! He used to be a little 
worrisome in his ways at times, but he ’s got all 
over that ! ” 

Oh, has he % ” snapped Aunt Prue. “ I ’d like 
to know when ? He ’s been more of a plague the 
last six weeks than ever in his life before. When 
he upset that milk last night I could have cuffed 
him. It’s the third time since Wednesday. 
Mark, indeed ! The only mark he ’ll ever make 
is a dirt mark on clean floors. The kitchen looks 
like Sancho at this moment. I ’ve washed it up 
twice as often as ordinary, but as sure as I get 


108 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

it clean, in he comes stamping about with his 
muddy boots and tracks it from end to end. I 
believe he does it a-purpose.’^ 

Oh, Prue ! ” began Aunt Hitty, in a pleading 
tone, while Aunt Greg broke in, indignantly : 

^‘A-purpose! Well! Charley's mind is on 
other things, I can tell you, and it ’s no won- 
der he sometimes forgets to wipe his feet.'' 

Other things ! Getting off to sea, I sup- 
pose you mean I " remarked Aunt Prue, grimly. 
“ He 's pulled the wool over your eyes and 
Kitty's finely, I declare. As for me, if he 's 
goin' on to behave as he has done for a spell 
back, the sooner he quits the better. I wash 
my hands of him," and Aunt Prue flounced 
into the buttery just as Grandmother came in 
at the other door. 

^‘Charley, is it, you was talking about?" she 
asked. Did you hear him coughin' last night ? 
I did, and I could n't sleep a wink for worrying 
about it. A real deep cough it was. Do you 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 109 


suppose it the lungs, and what's good for him 
to take!” 

‘^He's well enough except for mischief/' put 
in Aunt Prue through the buttery door. 

‘‘Prue never thinks anything ails anybody," 
said Mrs. Brush, sinking her voice to a whisper. 

I 'm really consarned about Charley. He don't 
eat hardly anything at dinner. That ain't a bit 
natural for a growin' boy. . And he says he lies 
awake a great deal of nights. He thinks it's 
the air about here makes him feel bad, but I 
don’t know if he 's right about it. I wish we 'd 
a doctor here to say if going off to sea — or 
somewhere — would be the best thing for him. 
I 'm clean confused as to what we 'd best do 
about it, but I 'm real uneasy in my mind.” 

Charley, coming in just then, chuckled to 
himself as he heard her. 

So things went on, and by October Charley 
had his wish. It was settled that he should 
go to sea. Aunt Greg drove over to Wachusett 


110 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 


Center and consulted with old Mr. Greg, her 
father-in-law, who was the wise man of the 
neighborhood. 

^‘Let him go — let him go/’ was Mr. Greg’s 
advice. ^^When a chap like that gets the bit 
between his teeth, it ’s no use to keep yanking 
at the reins. Let him go for one long cruise, 
and see how he likes it. Ten to one he ’ll 
come back then and be glad to settle down. 
He ain’t the kind of boy to make a sailor of, 
I judge. There ’s Ben Bradley, — my first wife’s 
cousin, — captain of one of them China traders ; 
ship Charley with him. I ’ll write a line, and 
I guess Ben ’ll kind of keep an eye on him for 
the sake of the connection.” 

So, late in the fall, Charley went to sea. 
Grandmother and the aunts felt dreadfully sad 
when it came to the parting; but he was full 
of satisfaction and triumph, and never shed a 
tear. The Helen Weeks,” as Captain Bradley’s 
ship was named, sailed from Boston on the second 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 111 


of November, and for fifteen months nobody at 
home heard a word of Charley. 

Those were sad days at the old Brush Farm. 
Grandmother fell ill from anxiety, and even Aunt 
Prue looked white and miserable. Aunt Greg 
and Aunt Hitty spent their time crying in cor- 
ners, and Why did we let him go I ” was the 
language of all their hearts. But in February, 
when everything was at its coldest and iciest, 
Charley came back, — Charley or his ghost, for 
the tall, thin, starved-looking, ragged boy set 
down at the gate was very unlike the stout, 
rosy lad of the year before. 

He was so weak and forlorn that it was several 
days before he recovered enough to explain what 
had happened to him, and then it was little by 
little, and not as I give it in one connected 
story. • 

I don’t ever want to go to sea again,” he 
began. ^^It ain’t a bit like what we thought it 
was. I don’t know why them chaps in the 


112 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

^ Reader ’ called it ‘ blue.’ It ’s green and 
black and yellow, and all kinds of colors, 
but I never see it look blue excepting when 
folks was lookin’ at it from the land. It ’s 
cold, too, and wet and nasty. I wasn’t dry 
once for the first two months, it seems to me. 
Ugh ! I hate it. Never let to sleep till you Ve 
rested, and such horrid stuff to eat, and sick — 
my, how sick I was ! Captain Bradley was a 
fair enough sort of man, but he fell ill of China 
fever, and we had to leave him behind in Can- 
ton, and Bill Bunco, the first mate, took his 
place. After that we had a hard time enough. 
I thought it was bad at first, but it was n’t 
nothing to that. He was always walloping us 
boys, and swearing and kicking and cuffing us 
about. Then we had a storm, and lost our 
mainmast and came near foundering; and then 
we were stuck in a calm for three weeks, and 
the water aboard ran short. That was the time 
I had the fever. I’d have died, I know, if it 



“ ‘ He was always -walloping us boys.’ ” Page 112. 








CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 113 

had n’t been for Tad Brice. He was one of the 
sailors, and a real nice man. His boy at home 
was just as old as I am, and he sort of took an 
interest in me from the start. He used to come 
in and feed me, and when we were put on 
allowance, he saved half his water ration for 
me; and when I got to crying, and thinking 
about home, and you all, he ’d — ” Here 
Charley choked and was silent. Aunt Hitty, 
who sat next, possessed herself of his thin 
hand and wept silently over it. 

^^When I went away I meant to be a pirate, 
you know,” went on Charley. 

A pirate ! ” cried Aunt Hitty and Aunt Greg 
in awe-struck voices. 

Yes. I did n’t know much about what it 
meant, but it sounded somehow nice in the 
books, and I wanted to be one. But when I 
asked ’em about it aboard they roared and 
hooted and made fun, and they all called me 
Captain Kidd from that time on. And once, 


114 THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS; OR 

when we were in Shanghai ’’ (Charley’s voice 
sounded full of horror), ^^we saw two pirates. 
Tad Brice said they was pirates. The folks 
was taking ’em to jail. They was dreadful, 
black and ugly, and their eyes were so fierce 
and bad that it made me cold to look at 
’em. I never wanted to be a pirate any more 
after that, but Bunce and the others, they all 
kept on calling me Captain Kidd just the 
same.” 

^‘You absurd, ridiculous boy!” began Aunt 
Prue, but Grandmother hushed her up. 

Now, Prue, I won’t have poor Charley 
scolded when he ’s been so sick,” she said — 
“ He ’s only a boy, anyhow, and he ’s going to 
turn over a new leaf now ; ain’t you, Charley ? 
and go to school regular, and do his chores, 
and be the comfort of his granny’s life. He ’s 
had enough of goin’ to sea ; have n’t you, 
Charley ? and he ’ll stay on the farm now, 
and we won’t ever talk about this bad time 


CHARLEY AND THE OLD FOLKS 


115 


he ’s had, and just be thankful to get him 
back home again.” 

Charley did n’t answer in words, but he 
turned and gave Grandmother a big kiss, 
which she knew meant ^^yes,” and they were 
all very happy that night as they sat together 
around the fire. 

So you see that the fox, though he succeeded 
in his tricks, was not a particularly happy fox 
after all. Too much turkey may not be good 
for a fox, and too much of his own way is 
certainly not good for a boy. 


cU 



THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


% 





THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


A prowling wolf espied a horse grazing in the field. “ Aha ! ” 
cried he, “ a prize; but how to manage ? A horse is not easy prey, 
like a sheep. I must try some trick.” So he drew near and intro- 
duced himself as a doctor. “You must be ill,” he told the horse, 
“ or they would not have turned you out to graze. Tell me your 
disease; I can cure it, whatever it is.” “I have a swelling on the 
under side of my foot,” replied the horse. “ Let me examine,” said 
the wolf, making ready for a snap. Suddenly the wary horse fiung 
wide his heels and threw the wolf high in air, “ Ah ! ” he howled, 
as he limped away. “ This serves me right. I should not have 
quitted my trade. Nature meant me for a butcher, not for a 
doctor.” 

I N the front of the big house in the square, 
two windows stood wide open one morning 
in June. Every one who passed stopped and 
stared, for nobody had ever seen a window open 
in the big house before. 

The big house faced the south. It should 
have been bright, but it seemed as if the sun 
dodged its duty and shone everywhere else. 


120 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


Inside were large dull rooms, which smelt of 
furniture, though Mrs. Ursula, the housekeeper, 
dusted them every day. Mrs. Ursula was tall 
and bony. She had sharp eyes, with red rims 
to them, and large, prominent teeth. Most 
people were afraid of her; but she always trod 
softly, and spoke as if her mouth were full of 
sugar, when she entered the room where Gov- 
ernor Alden, the owner of the big house, sat, 
surrounded with law books, and always alone. 
He was an old man now ; it was years since 
he had governed anybody, but people called 
him the Governor ” still. Mrs. Ursula’s place 
was a capital one, everybody said. She ruled 
the big house, and when ‘Hhe Governor” died, 
she would, no doubt, inherit his money; who 
else had he to leave it to, poor old man? 

And now the windows stood open, and passers- 
by stopped to wonder ! 

What is it ? Do you know ? ” asked one 
of another. 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


121 


I know/' squeaked a kittle boy, proud to 
be wiser than the older people. 

What is it ? Tell us quick ! " exclaimed 
the rest. 

It 's a girl. She came last night in the 
eight o’clock ’bus. She ’s pretty, too, you bet. 
I seen her go in ! Bill took in her trunk. He 
says she ’s the Gove’nor’s granddaughter, and 
I guess Mrs. Ursula don’t like it much; she 
most bit Bill’s head off. Crickey ! ” 

These remarks concluded, the little boy stood 
on his head, by way of exclamation point ! 

The Gove’nor’s granddaughter ! I did n’t 
know he ever had chick or child,” said a 
man. 

Did n’t you I ” said old Mrs. Tibbetts. Oh, 
yes. Sophy Alden was the prettiest girl in 
this town; but she went and took up with a 
furriner, and her pa cut her off. So her darter ’s 
come here to live, has she? Well, well!” 
While the people thus wondered outside the 


122 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


house, Mignon Chevalier was wondering equally 
inside. What sort of home was this — what 
sort of a grandpapa ? Why had he first looked 
at her in such rigid silence ; and then, after read- 
ing the letter she brought, trembled and cried, 
and said: ‘^Take her away, Ursula; make her 
comfortable — I must be alone ” ? How queer 
that a house should be built all of wood; how 
different from the houses she had been used to 
in France ! Why did the people stare so at 
the windows ? She popped out her head to 
see. Mrs. Tibbetts caught a glimpse of it, 
framed in its bronze-brown curls, the clear, 
frank eyes full of curiosity, and cried: 

Bless the girl ! Don't she look pretty 
and skittish ! She 's the moral image of her 
nia ! ’’ 

Mignon heard; she smiled gayly, and kissed 
her hand to the old woman. 

It did not take long to make the child at 
home. The old walls seemed to welcome her. 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 123 

The sun took the house into favor, shone in 
at Mignon’s windows all day, and played bo- 
peep with her of mornings. The very mice 
appeared glad of her coming; they racketed 
about and squeaked gleefully from their hiding- 
places. All things rejoiced over the young, 
happy creature. All but Grandpapa. He dared 
not rejoice. His new-found happiness was mixed 
with constant anxiety. This was in great part 
the fault of Mrs. Ursula. She knew that he 
was afraid of French people, and disliked them ; 
and she never lost a chance of reminding him 
that Mignon was half French. 

ought to be getting Miss Chevalier some 
summer frocks,” she would say. ‘^But perhaps 
I had better let her choose them, — the French 
have so much taste in dress.” Or, I told Biddy 
to make one of those thin soups the French are 
so fond of. I thought perhaps Miss Mignon 
would enjoy it. But I’m afraid it’s not very 
good.” Or, I ’m sure I beg your pardon, sir, 


124 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


if I misunderstood; but Miss Mignon gave me 
the message, and I can’t always make out 
what she says. She has such a foreign ac- 
cent!” 

Mignon’s accent was a little foreign, but she 
spoke English very prettily, and only an envious 
person could have found fault with her, she was 
so amiable, fresh, and gay. The old Governor 
felt the charm. Left to himself he would soon 
have loved her dearly. When she put her sweet 
face to his and kissed him good-night, his heart 
warmed with pleasure. But then came Mrs. 
Ursula saying: ^^Miss Mignon is French, you 
know, and I am only used to American girls. 
They are so different 1 ” 

Meantime, when alone with Mignon, she pre- 
tended to like her very much. She praised and 
flattered her, and asked leave to “ curl that 
beautiful hair.” 

But, though Mignon was gracious and polite, 
in her heart she was afraid. Mrs. Ursula’s large 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


125 


teeth, and the expression of her red eyes, made 
her think of a wild beast. 

feel like Eed Riding Hood,'’ she said to 
herself once, and then she laughed. 

So the summer passed. If she had not been 
the brightest and sunniest of girls, Mignon must 
sometimes have been very lonely in that dull 
house with Mrs. Ursula for companion, and 
Grandpapa, who at times seemed so fond of 
her, at other times shrinking away and be- 
coming cold and stern. 

But she hardly knew the meaning of the 
word lonely. Outdoors one minute, indoors 
next, she flashed about like a sunbeam, making 
friends of every body and thing within her 
reach. Dogs, cats, birds, currant-bushes, rose- 
vines, little boys, babies — all were interesting 
to Mignon. Her light feet echoed strangely in 
the long halls. People who passed heard her 
singing, and remarked how different the old 
house was now that she was there. 


126 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


One day in August she came in with her 
lap full of flowers, and Grandpapa opened the 
study door and called her: 

‘^Mignon, my child, I want you.” 

Mignon went in. Two gentlemen were there 
whom she had never seen before. They were 
sitting by the table, which was covered with 
papers. 

Grandpapa put his arm about Mignon’s 
shoulders. This is she,” he said; my 
only daughter’s only child. Mr. Squires, 
Mignon, and Judge Dubberly.” 

The gentlemen rose and bowed, and Mignon 
made her curtsy very prettily. 

That will do,” said Grandpapa. Now run 
away, my dear.” Mignon went, but she won- 
dered what it meant. 

Mrs. Ursula wondered too, but she guessed 
pretty well what it meant. She found a good 
deal to do that morning in the pantry which 
adjoined the study, and caught words which 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 127 

made her suspect that the Governor was making 
his will. Mrs. Ursula did not like this. The 
Governor had made a will years before Mignon 
came, in which he left Mrs. Ursula a legacy; 
she feared that he might forget to do so 
now. 

After a while the gentlemen left. Then the 
Governor went into the dining-room and opened 
the iron safe in which he kept his papers. Mrs. 
Ursula heard the sharp click of the closing 
door, and was ready to cry with vexation and 
anxiety. 

Two or three days after, something happened 
that was very sad. Grandpapa came in from 
the hot sun with a bad headache. That night 
fever set in, and soon he was very ill. 

He is an old man. There does n^t seem 
much chance for him,” the doctor told his wife. 
He did not say so to Mrs. Ursula, but she 
looked in his eyes and guessed. 

Mignon was grieved to have Grandpapa sick. 


128 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


Mrs. Ursula took all the care, and would not 
allow her to do anything; but she would sit 
beside the bed for hours at a time, fanning 
Grandpapa, or holding and stroking his hand. 
Sometimes she would sing little French hymns, 
in her soft young voice, and he always seemed 
to like to hear them. But, after a while, he was 
so very ill that he did not know who was in 
the room or who was not. 

Then came a dreadful evening when the 
doctor looked graver than usual, shook his 
head, and whispered that there was almost 
no hope. Mignon was too unhappy to sleep, 
and, after Mrs. Ursula thought her safe in 
bed, she stole back and sat down in a dark 
corner behind Grandpapa’s curtains. There was 
nothing for her to do, but it seemed a comfort to 
be there, rather than in her lonely bedroom. 

The house was very quiet. After a while 
Mrs. Ursula came in on tiptoe with a candle, 
which she shaded with her hand as she stood 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


129 


beside the bed, looking down at the Governor’s 
face, so white and still that it almost seemed 
dead. 

She stood there a great many minutes ; then, 
moving noiselessly, she crossed the room, and 
began to fumble in the closet. What was she 
about? Mignon felt curious. She leaned for- 
ward and saw Mrs. Ursula take a key out of 
the pocket of Grandpapa’s waistcoat which hung 
there. She recognized it well; it was the key 
of the iron safe in the dining-room. 

Mignon was but thirteen, but, in spite of her 
gay heart, she had a wise little head of her 
own, and she knew very well that Mrs. Ursula 
had no business with this valuable key. So, 
when the housekeeper left the room and went 
softly downstairs, Mignon crept after to see 
what was being done. 

Mrs. Ursula, standing before the open safe, 
had no idea that just outside in the dark hall 
a pair of indignant brown eyes were watching 

9 


130 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


her every movement. It was as she feared. 
The Governor had made a new will. She read 
it from end to end, — a small legacy to herself, 
all the rest to Mignon. But something else 
lay in the drawer, namely, the old will, which 
the Governor had not yet destroyed, and in 
which Mrs. Ursula was left a large legacy, 
while nothing at all was said of Mignon. 

Mignon, watching, saw Mrs. Ursula’s face 
change when she spied this. Her eyes lighted 
up, she showed her large teeth, and looked 
more like a wolf than ever. She thought a 
moment, then took the new will, laid it on 
the hearth, struck a match, and set fire to the 
paper. It was only a moment in burning up, 
all those long words which Grandpapa and the 
other gentlemen had spent a whole morning over. 

There ! ” said Mrs. Ursula, aloud, gazing on 
the little heap of ashes. There, Miss Mignon ! 
That does for you, I fancy ! ” 

She did not hear the light feet flit upstairs 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 131 

before her. In the sick-room all was quiet; 
the Governor lay asleep, or unconscious, and 
Mrs. Ursula rejoiced. 

‘^Only a day or two more,” she thought; 
then I ^11 send that French chit packing 
about her business ! ” 

Does it not seem dreadful that any woman 
should be so wicked? But we must remember 
that she didn^t become wicked all at once. It 
is the tiny seeds of envy and greediness which 
we neglect which take root in our hearts un- 
checked, and after a while crowd out all the 
good, and lead us to do shocking things which 
once we should have shuddered at. 

Mignon did not go to bed at all that night, 
but slept in the big chair beside Grandpapa. 
She felt as if she wanted to watch over him. 
While she slept the good Angel of Healing 
passed by and laid his blessed hand on the 
poor old man. The doctor looked surprised 
and glad when he came in the morning. The 


132 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


fever had gone, he said ; now Grandpapa might 
get well, only he would need the best of nursing 
for a long time to come. 

I ’ll be nurse,” cried Mignon. “ Tell me 
exactly what to do, Doctor, and I ’ll do it 
beautifully. Grandpapa will like to have me; 
won’t you. Grandpapa I ” And the sick man 
smiled faintly and nodded his head. 

So the doctor gave directions, and that day, 
and many days after, Mignon waited on Grand- 
papa, — the prettiest, brightest, kindest little 
nurse that ever was. She wrote down all the 
orders about food and medicine, she timed 
herself with Grandpapa’s heavy old gold watch, 
and never once forgot or made a mistake. Mrs. 
Ursula did not interfere, for she was frightened 
almost out of her wits at the thought of what 
she had done. It had never occurred to her 
while she burned the paper that the Governor 
might get well, and now she did not know 
which way to turn. 



“ The prettiest, brightest, kindest little nurse that ever was.” Page 132. 




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THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


133 


At last she resolved to tell Grandpapa that 
Mignon had meddled with the will and burnt 
it up by accident. He ’ll take my word 
against that child’s, surely,” thought she. 
Meantime, while getting ready to make this 
accusation, she was very sweet to Mignon, 
and caressed and flattered her more than 
ever. 

One day in early October, when Grandpapa 
was so much better as to sit up, Mignon, coming 
in from a walk, heard a voice in Grandpapa’s 
room. It was Mrs. Ursula’s voice. 

If you please, sir, have you the key of 
the smoke-room?” 

^^I? No,” replied the Governor. 

‘‘Oh, then Miss Mignon must have it.” 

“ Mignon ! Why, what should she want with 
that key ? She does n’t care for hams and 
tongues, Ursula.” 

“ I don’t know, I ’m sure, sir. She ’s a 
curious girl, and she likes to unlock and 


134 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


turn things over. I don’t suppose there ’s 
a drawer in this house, or a closet, that she 
hasn’t been into; even the iron safe, though 
there ’s nothing in that but papers, to be sure. 
The French are a singular people.” 

‘^What on earth should the child want of 
the iron safe?” remarked the Governor, sur- 
prised and a little fretful, for he was a man 
who hated to have his things meddled with. 

Mignon went to her room quietly. 

How dare she tell such a falsehood?” she 
thought ; but why did she want to tell it ? ” 
She felt that Mrs. Ursula was meditating mis- 
chief, and she resolved to tell Grandpapa about 
the burnt paper as soon as he was a little 
stronger. 

It was quite a festival in the big house the 
day that Grandpapa came down to dinner for 
the first time. Biddy had prepared a feast. 
Mignon adorned the room with chrysanthemums 
and late roses. In the middle of the table 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


135 


was a bowl of purple and white grapes trimmed 
with vine-leaves, and the sun streaming in, 
shone on all, — on the roses, the grapes, on 
Grandpapa’s white head, on Mignon’s curls of 
sunny brown, on the wood fire, and the iron 
safe which stood in its recess grim and black. 

Grandpapa,” asked Mignon as dinner ended, 
and Mrs. Ursula set the dessert on the table, 
what do you keep in there f ” pointing to the 
safe with her finger. 

Papers, child.” 

And what papers do you keep in the second 
drawer from the top on the right-hand side I ” 
Mrs. Ursula stared. Grandpapa was aston- 
ished, and a little vexed. 

Why do you ask ? ” he said. 

‘‘I will tell you,” replied Mignon, speaking 
very gravely and looking straight at Mrs. Ursula. 

One night when you were very, very sick. 
Grandpapa, and the doctor said he did not think 
you could get well, Mrs. Ursula came into your 


136 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 


room and took the safe-key out of your pocket. 
She did not know I was there, but I was, and I 
crept after her and watched her. She took a paper 
out of that drawer and read it ; then she took out 
another paper and read that; then she laid one 
of the papers in the fireplace, and set fire to it 
and burned it up. I have not told you before, 
because you were not strong, but I think I ought 
to tell you now.” 

Is this true demanded the Governor, sternly. 

Sir, — I — I — No, it is not true,’^ stammered 
the terrified Ursula. 

Grandpapa rose and went to the safe. He 
opened the drawer, took out the will, examined 
it. Then — 

You will notice what I do,” he said, and 
you, Mignon.’* 

He laid the paper on the logs. It flamed, then 
blackened; he stood watching till it was quite 
burned up. 

Now,” he said, turning to the housekeeper, 


THE HORSE AND THE WOLF 137 

Go ! Your wages shall be paid afterward; but 
I do not wish to see you again/’ 

Oh,” groaned Mrs. Ursula, as she tied up her 
bundles, why did I do such a venturesome 
thing ? I shall never get a place like this again.’^ 
With her departed the evil spirit from the old 
house. From that time Mignon became all in all 
to Grandpapa. Her youth and brightness made 
him feel young; her affection cheered him; he 
loved her tenderly and trusted her in all things. 

Mrs. Tibbetts says you are ^skittish,’” he said 
one day. And you do make me think a little of a 
colt in a pasture ; you frisk about and toss your 
head so, and seem to enjoy being alive so much.” 

Oh, I ’m like a colt, am I?” replied Mignon, 
saucily. Well, Grandpapa, you make me think 
of a gallant old war-horse, who doesn’t go to 
battles any more, but has a good time at home. I 
don’t mind frisking by your side. Mrs. Ursula 
always made me think of a wolf, do you know ? 
Now we Ve got rid of her, I can frisk with a light 
heart and be content.” 




THE TWO GOATS 




THE TWO GOATS 


Two youthful goats, belonging to families of high degree among the 
goat tribes, once encountered each other upon a narrow tree-trunk which 
spanned a mountain torrent. Said the goat from the East to the goat 
from the West: “Go back and make way. I am an important goat, a 
goat of degree. It is but proper that common goats should stand aside 
when I pass by.” “ Common, indeed ! Pray what do you mean by com- 
mon? ’’replied the one from the West. “I would have you to know 
that I am a full-blooded Merino ! Merinoes make way for nobody. Go 
back yourself ! ” The dispute raged. Neither would yield an inch. At 
last, in heat of argument, their horns locked, and a desperate struggle 
began, in the midst of which both goats lost footing, and, still fighting, 
fell from the bridge into the water, which speedily cooled their anger 
and brought them to their senses. 



HE day of Miss Alicia Belden’s annual pic- 


jL nic was the most exciting day of the year 
in Lanark village. Excitements were not frequent 
in pretty Lanark, nor holidays many. There were 
Sundays, to be sure — Sunday goes everywhere ; 
Christmas, observed iq simple country fashion; 
Lady-day, when rents came due and servants 
changed places ; Shrove Tuesday, conspicuous for 
pancakes ; and Good Friday, when all the world 


142 


THE TWO GOATS 


went to church except the Independent Baptists, 
who (there being nothing else doing ) sat at home 
and found the day long and dull. But none of 
these, the children thought, compared in interest 
with Miss Alicia’s picnic. It was their day, and 
grown people, except Miss Alicia, had nothing 
whatever to do with it. 

Miss Alicia Belden was a retired sugar-baker. 
The taste for gingerbread is universal as that for 
freedom. Miss Alicia’s gingerbread came as near 
to being good as British gingerbread can be. It 
looked like bar-soap, but it did not taste like that ; 
and the youth of Lanark, having never known 
the delicious American article made of molasses, 
voted it prime and consumed it in enormous 
quantities. Buns and turnovers also did Miss 
Alicia make; cheese-cakes, which melted in the 
mouth; tea-cakes, with currant eyes; and toffy, 
which won praise even from London visitors. No 
wonder, then, that her trade prospered, and that 
by the time she was fifty, and her earliest 


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143 


customers staid men and women with ginger- 
bread-eating boys and girls of their own, she was 
able, as the newspapers say, to retire on a com- 
petence.” This competence was not a large one, 
but it left a margin for what Miss Alicia called 
pleasures,” chief among which was the annual 
picnic she gave all the children of the village. 
Every one was included, even the little Inde- 
pendent Baptists. Some of Miss Alicia’s friends 
thought that this was going too far. But she 
would listen to no remonstrances. 

What ! ” she said, go and leave any of the 
poor dears behind to cry their eyes out at home ! 
I could n’t enjoy the day a bit if I did — not one 
bit.” So all the children went. 

Helm Island, six miles off at sea, being the 
picnicking place, the day always began with a 
sail in a wheezy little steam-tug chartered by 
Miss Alicia. It left Lanark according to the tide. 
On this day which I am going to tell about, the 
tide served at half-past nine in the morning, and 


144 


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there was great hurry and confusion in the village 
households to get the little ones dressed and ready 
in time. Some of the children had been up at 
daybreak to see what sort of day it was going to 
be. These thought the older folks unusually late 
and slow. They danced about, impatiently beg- 
ging everybody to make haste, to hurry, or they 
should certainly be left behind ; in which case — 
but here they stopped; imagination could go no 
farther than that frightful possibility ! 

Put on your blue frock, Nancy/' said Mrs. 
Sarkie ; not the pink-sprigged. That lass of the 
Spences 'll likely wear her sprigged, and I 'd not 
wdsh to have you look as if you dressed alike, or 
was any way connected, and the families not 
speaking as they do." 

Yes, indeed. Mother," responded Nancy, with 
a little toss of her head ; I 'd be sorry at that 
too. Nancy Spence is always getting things like 
mine. I wish she would n’t. It 's just as if she 
did it a-purpose.” 


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145 


Not that I wish to say aught against the lass/’ 
went on Mrs. Sarkie. She ’s well enough, and 
so was her mother afore her ; a good-natured lass 
her mother was at school, years back. Nobody 
denies that. But after the way Farmer Spence 
has behaved and all, no one would wish to liken 
you together in any sort; it isn’t natural, and 
I ’m sure your father would n’t want it.” 

On the farther side of the village, toward the 
east, in another big, substantial red-brick farm- 
house, set about with thick orchards and waving 
fields of grain, Mrs. Spence was fastening her 
Nancy’s frock, blue also. 

The pink sprig is the freshest,” she said, but 
it^s just like that one of Nancy Sarkie’s, which 
she ’ll be sure to wear, so I ’d rather have you 
in this. ’T ain’t worth while to be imitating 
neighbors that is n’t neighborly — that ’s my 
opinion.” 

Nancy Sarkie is a cross, stuck-up thing ! ” 

said Nancy Spence. What do you think she 
10 


146 


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said one day at school, Mother? — that her 
fathers folks in London ’d have nothing to do 
with low people like us Spences ! Ought she to 
have said that ? Is n’t Father as good as the 
Sarkies?” 

Set her up, indeed ! cried Mrs. Spence, flush- 
ing. As good ? I should think so. I never yet 
heard tell of a Sarkie as could hold his head 
higher than a Spence. Why, Nancy, your father’s 
uncle in Bristol, as died so rich, kept his own 
carriage — carriage and horses ! ” 

Did he?” said Nancy, eagerly. ‘‘I’ll tell 
Nancy Sarkie that next time she boasts. You 
can’t think how rude she is sometimes, Mother. 
Last picnic she gave me a great shove and 
most pushed me down. What makes her act 
so?” 

“Some of the fathers blood in her, I guess,” 
replied Mrs. Spence. “ Her mother was a good 
girl enough before she wedded him. Ah! your 
father could tell tales. He ’s had cause to know 


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147 


what Sarkie is, if ever man had. But never mind 
that now, Nancy ; we won’t rake up trouble this 
day of all days in the year.” 

She tied Nancy’s hat ribbons firmly as she 
spoke, and gave her hair a last smooth. 

Good-bye, Mother. Oh ! you ’re putting on 
your bonnet. Are you going to walk down with 
me I ” 

To be sure I am. I want to see you safe ofi*.” 

The dock was crowded when they reached it. 
Far below in the basin floated the tug, and the 
sailors were placing a plank with hand-rails for the 
children to pass over. Presently, a stream of 
little figures began to pour across it to the deck. 

declare,” pouted Nancy Sarkie, ‘there’s 
that Spence girl in blue after all. Isn’t it too 
bad. Mother?” 

Yes. I wish now you ’d worn the sprig,” 
said Mrs. Sarkie. But never let it matter ; you 
can enjoy yourself all the same if she is in 
blue.” 


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No, I can’t. I don’t like to have her setting 
herself up to dress like me,” said Nancy. 

Her face was quite clouded as she walked slowly 
down the plank. 

Ts, ts, ts ! ” clicked Mrs. Spence between her 
teeth. ^‘That Sarkie lass has on the blue frock 
like yours. Well, well ! If there was time, 
Nancy, you should run home and change.” 

There is n’t,” replied Nancy, with a little 
scowl. I don’t care. Mother. She can’t he me, 
even if we have both got on blue frocks. No- 
body ’ll mistake us for each other.” 

With a laugh she ran down the plank. The 
tug gave three screeching whistles as a signal to 
belated comers. At the sound, a woman who 
was walking along the shore with two boys began 
to run. 

“ Just in time,” said the captain, as she handed 
the little fellows down to him. 

Then the whistle sounded once more, the pad- 
dles revolved, the children raised their voices in a 


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149 


shrill cheer, and the boat moved away. The day 
of pleasure was begun. 

Seated on either side the deck, the two Nancy s 
glared gloomily across. Why did they dislike 
each other so much? I don^t think either could 
have told. The ill-feeling between the families 
had begun years ago, when the girls were babies, 
and nobody now recollected exactly how it began. 
There was something about a bit of land and 
right of way, something about a trespassing pig, 
somebody had called somebody else hard names — 
who or what did n’t matter ; it was a good 
thorough quarrel, one of the sort which the ill- 
natured imps delight in, and the children, as 
children will, threw themselves into the warfare 
with a zeal surpassing that of their elders. Pride 
and ill-humor are not pleasant things to carry to a 
picnic, and it might be predicted in advance that 
the two Nancys were not likely to have a per- 
fectly agreeable day. 

The first trouble came soon after landing, 


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when Nancy Spence by mistake lifted the wrong 
basket. 

Put that down ! ’’ said Nancy Sarkie, sharply. 

Miss Alicia told me to carry that. You 've no 
business to touch it.” 

Nancy Spence was a year older than the other 
Nancy, and a good deal taller ; but she was also 
gentler and more easily cowed. She dropped the 
basket quickly, and said confusedly : 

“ I did nT know — I did n’t mean to ” 

Oh, yes!” replied Nancy Sarkie, tauntingly — 

did n’t know 1 did n’t mean to ! That ’s the way 
you always go on, Nancy Spence — meddling, 
always meddling I Everybody knows that.” 

No such thing,” said the larger Nancy ; I 
don’t meddle. You ’ve no call to talk to me like 
that.” 

So the dispute proceeded, Nancy Sarkie repeat- 
ing that Nancy Spence was a meddler, and she 
retorting that Nancy Sarkie was a spitfire. 

Girls, what is the matter ? ” said Miss Alicia, 


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151 


overhearing them. Let Nancy alone, Nancy 
Sarkie. You began it, I know; you always do. 
What does ail you to provoke each other always ? 
Come with me one of you. I shall keep you 
separate if there is n’t an end to this barking and 
biting and calling of names.” Saying which she 
marched Nancy Spence away. 

Nancy Sarkie was left behind. The pretty 
island lay before her with its plumy trees and 
stretches of yellow beach. Behind was the sea, 
dimpled and shining ; overhead, the blue sky and 
the sun ; but she looked at none of these fair 
things. Her heart was sullen and heavy; the 
bright did not seem bright just then — the blue 
sky might as well have been gray. She did not 
care for the woods and beaches, or for the shells 
which she had looked forward to gathering. We 
can never enjoy anything unless the enjoyment is 
inside ourselves, ready to come out when called ; 
though, when that is the case, we enjoy almost 
everything. Nancy found this true that morning. 


152 


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She set her basket on the ground, and stood as in 
a dream, with eyes cast down, and a dull, 
miserable feeling all over her. 

By and by she heard, sounds of singing. Up 
there at the top of the tree-covered bank, the 
children, she knew, were playing games and 
having a merry time together. She lifted her 
basket and climbed the path. Miss Alicia was 
sitting under the trees with two or three of the 
older girls. Some of the big boys were lighting 
a fire. The other children, linked in a great ring, 
were playing “ Here we go round the barberry- 
bush.’^ It looked gay and cheerful, and every- 
body seemed to be finding it pleasant except poor, 
sulky Nancy, who was not in a mood to like any- 
thing, whatever it might be. 

Oats, peas, beans” succeeded to ^^barberry- 
bush,” and Euth and Jacob ” followed that. 
Did any of you ever hear of the game of Euth 
and Jacob”? This is the way it was played in 
Lanark village: All the children made a circle 


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153 


with clasped hands, except one boy and one girl, 
who stood in the middle. The boy was blind- 
folded, the girl not. The blindfolded boy groped 
about, demanding, “ Where is my Ruthl '' And 
the girl had to answer, Here,” but the instant 
she spoke she glided away to the other side of the 
circle, so that the boy, following her voice, should 
not find her. As soon as the girl was caught, she 
put on the bandage, and a fresh boy took his place 
in the circle, of whom she demanded, Where is 
my Jacob?” The Lanark children were fond 
of this game, because it gave opportunity for 
good hearty romping, in which they delighted. 

Nancy Sarkie joined in Ruth and Jacob,” but, 
for the first time, the play seemed to her dull 
and tiresome. Nancy Spence, too, was out of 
sorts. Miss Alicia had read her a lecture on 
quarrelling, and, feeling as she did that she was all 
in the right and Nancy Sarkie all in the wrong, 
the lecture made her very cross. Neither she nor 
Nancy Sarkie spoke during the game, and when 


154 


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they looked at each other it was not in a pleasant 
way at all. 

Meantime, Miss Alicia, aided by the older girls, 
was unpacking great baskets of bread and meat, 
and arranging veal pies, tartlets, sweet- cakes, and 
ginger-beer bottles on four big white tablecloths 
laid on the ground in the shade. All these good 
things were provided by Miss Alicia, who liked to 
do everything herself at her picnic, and never 
allowed anybody else to contribute. 

By the time the feast was ready, the children 
were ready for it. What with Ruth and Jacob ” 
and the fresh sea air, they were hungry as wolves 
and crowded round the tables. Such a demolish- 
ing of veal pies and devouring of bread and butter 
was never seen before. It took some time to 
settle who should sit here and who there, to dis- 
tribute the food and make sure that no one was 
left out ; but Miss Alicia was experienced in pic- 
nics, and before long all was nicely arranged, 
and the fifty little jaws were wagging in hajDpy 


THE TWO GOATS 


155 


concert. The meal passed olf with entire success 
until cake-time came. There was one loaf with 
pink icing, on which all the party liad fixed 
admiring eyes. When this loaf was cut and dis- 
tributed, it chanced that Nancy Spence got a bit, 
but before it reached Nancy Sarkie the last morsel 
was gone. 

Never mind,” said Miss Alicia, cutting another 
loaf. This is the same cake exactly, only with 
white sugar instead of pink. Here ’s a piece for 
you, Nancy Sarkie.” 

I don’t want any,” replied Nancy, crossly. 

^*It^s velly good,” remarked little Polly Bar- 
ton, with her mouth full. “ Do take some, Nancy.” 

‘‘No,” muttered Nancy; can get white 
cake at home. I wanted some of the pink, but 
there wasn’t enough. There was plenty for 
Nancy Spence though. Miss Alicia made sure 
of that, ’cause -s^e’s a favorite.” 

“ Nonsense,” said Miss Alicia, who caught the 
words. It ^s nothing of the sort. Take some 


156 


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cake, Nancy ; don’t be foolish. You won’t ? 
You’re as obstinate as a goat, I declare. I tell 
you what, Nancy Sarkie — if you can’t be 
pleasant and good-humored, you’d better not 
come on my picnics. I shall just leave you out 
next time.” 

The children gazed at Nancy with round eyes 
full of horror when Miss Alicia said this. How 
very bad she must be, they thought, to be shut out 
from the picnics. Nancy herself was frightened. 
She choked and strangled. A lump came into 
her throat. Presently a big tear, hopping down 
her nose, splashed into her plate ; and vexed that 
the other girls should see her crying, she jumped 
up and fled down the bank and on to the beach. 

It was afternoon now, and the yellow sun on 
the water shone dazzling and bright. The tide 
was coming in, fast but noiselessly, each wave 
running a little higher on the sand than the last, 
tracing its soft wet mark, and slipping back again 
into the lap of the sea with a tiny splash like a 


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157 


baby’s laugh. Here and there lay beautiful little 
shells, pink and yellow, or striped in faint lines of 
red and brown. Helm Island was famous for 
these shells ; the children looked forward to pick- 
ing them up as one of the chief pleasures of the 
picnic. But Nancy plodded past the shells and 
over them, and did not stoop to lift one from the 
sand. On and on she went to the very end of 
the beach, then over a little rocky point to a 
second and longer one. The sun lay hot on the 
sand, and the breeze seemed to have died away, 
but still she marched forward till the second 
beach also was passed. She was on the north 
side of the island now. It was bolder than the 
other side, with rocks and cliffs, but few trees 
grew near the shore, and Nancy, who was getting 
tired, saw no shady place in which to rest. At 
last she spied a point of land on which grew 
several pine-trees. The point jutted into the 
water for quite a distance, and the sea had eaten 
away the sand on either side and behind, so that 


158 


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at high tide the point was a little island and quite 
cut off from the shore. The tide was not more 
than half high now, however ; besides, one of the 
pine-trees had fallen across the passage, making a 
narrow bridge over which it was easy to walk. 

Nancy’s head was steady, and she trod the 
bridge without fear, looking down at the sand five 
or six feet below without turning giddy in the 
least. The pine-tree shade was delightful after 
her hot walk. She sat down on the ground, 
which was carpeted with fine brown needles, 
warm and soft. Here the breeze blew strong 
and cool, the waves lapped and rippled with a 
soothing sound. By and by Nancy’s head sank 
on her arm, she curled herself comfortably on the 
pine-needles, and before she knew it she was 
asleep. The wind rocked, the sea sang its lullaby, 
and both took care that she should not awaken 
again in a hurry. 

How long she slept she did not know. She 
roused suddenly and with a start, to wonder 


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159 


where she was and how she came to be there. I 
fear the angels who watched her slumbers were 
not of the right sort, for instead of waking 
pleasantly she was thoroughly out of humor. 
Her neck and shoulder ached from lying on the 
ground, and she felt stiff. The first thing that 
popped into her mind as she roused was Miss 
Alicia’s reproof. 

It was Nancy Spence’s fault,” she said half 
aloud. She ’s always doing provoking things, 
and then people think it ’s me. Miss Alicia does 
have favorites, and I shall just tell mother what 
she said to me. Mother ’ll be real vexed, I know 
she will. Mother’ll take my part against the 
Spences.” 

These amiable reflections were interrupted by 
the sight of a figure on the beach, so far away as 
to seem like a mere dot against the sand. As it 
drew near it grew larger. Nancy made out, first 
that it was a girl, next that the girl was picking 
up shells (for the figure stooped and rose, and 


160 


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stooped again as it walked), then that the girl had 
on a blue dress, and lastly (her eyes dilated as 
she looked), that it was the girl she disliked 
most ! Nancy Spence, the rival Nancy, was 
coming along the shore ! 

The moment she made this discovery, Nancy 
Sarkie slipped behind a pine-tree and hid herself. 
From this covert she watched the approaching 
foe. Nancy Spence drew nearer. She had a 
basket on her arm, in which she placed the shells 
as fast as she picked them up. As she walked 
she hummed a tune. This somehow struck the 
hidden Nancy as a wrong and insult to herself. 
Why should Nancy Spence be having such a good 
time when she had not I It seemed too much to 
bear! 

Before long, Nancy spied the piny islet and 
the fallen tree. She was as much delighted as the 
other Nancy had been earlier in the afternoon. 

What a pretty little island,” she said out loud, 
‘‘ with a bridge and all ! I mean to call it mine. 


THE TWO GOATS 


161 


Nobody has found it out but me, because nobody 
else has come so far along the beach.” 

She set her foot on the pine-trunk to cross 
over. The water was curling below now. It was 
not deep, but it seemed so, and gurgled and 
splashed in a noisy and suggestive manner. 
Nancy looked down a second, hesitating. When 
she raised her eyes she gave a great jump, for 
there, at the other end of the bridge, stood Nancy 
Sarkie, flushed and wrathful. 

Go back ! ” she cried. How dare you call 
this your island ? It ^s mine. I found it first, and 
you sha’n’t come on it at all.” 

^^Yes, I will,” said Nancy, flushing up also. 

I’ve just as much right as you have. I found 
it too, and I didn’t know you were here at all. 
I ’m just as good as you are, Nancy Sarkie.” 

No, you ’re not. My father said once that 
your father was a boor. I heard him. And my 
uncle in London lives in a big house, with 

ieau-iiivX things all over it ; and he ’d not have 
11 


162 


THE TWO GOATS 


anything to do with such people as you Spences 
are. So there now ! '' 

My father^s uncle kept a carriage and the 
most splendid horses as was ever seen. He was a 
great deal better than your uncle is. And iny 
father ’s not a boor. He ’s good old stock, Father 
is ; there is n’t any Sarkie can hold a candle to us 
Spences. I Ve heard people say so. So there 
now, Nancy Sarkie ! ” 

Anyhow, you sha’n’t come on my island. I 
won t let you.” 

You won’t let me ! You, indeed ! I tell you 
I will come.” 

Both girls ran forward. They met in the 
middle of the bridge. Go back ! ” ^‘1 won’t ! ” 
There was a push — a struggle. Nancy Spence’s 
foot slipped. She recovered herself. It slipped 
again. She staggered — fell — dragging Nancy 
Sarkie with her, and the foolish children rolled 
together off the log and into the sea ! 

The shock and the wetting cooled their anger 


THE TWO GOATS 


163 


and brought them to their senses. The water 
where they fell was about two feet deep, and 
they scrambled out without much difficulty ; but 
both were thoroughly soaked, both felt cold and 
miserable, and both began to cry. 

It’s all your fault,” spluttered Nancy Sarkie, 
spitting out a mouthful of salt water. 

That is n’t true ; you pushed me, or we 
should n’t either of us have fallen,” sobbed Nancy 
Spence. 

Ow ! ow ! I’m all wet and nasty, and so 
freezing cold,” blubbered the lesser Nancy. “I 
did n’t push you — you pushed me.” 

Oh, dear, my frock ! ” sighed Nancy Spence, de- 
plorably, trying to wring it out. Why don’t you 
squeeze your clothes, Nancy Sarkie, and get out 
all the water you can I You ’ll take a cold else.” 

‘‘ I don’t know how,” said Nancy Sarkie, touch- 
ing the wet gown helplessly with the points of 
her fingers. If I do take cold it ’ll be all your 
fault. I shall tell Miss Alicia so.” 


164 


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Nancy Spence was on the point of offering to 
help wring the wet dress, but at this speech she 
forbore. 

“ I shall tell Miss Alicia, too,'' she said, shutting 
her lips tight together. 

Then she seized her basket, out of which all 
the shells were fallen, and began to walk away. 
Nancy Sarkie, dripping like a fountain, followed. 

What a long, dismal walk that was ! It seemed 
twice as far as it had seemed in the morning. The 
girls' clothes felt heavy, their shoes stuck to the 
sand and dragged them down. The sun was hot 
still, and though the exercise gradually warmed 
their chilly limbs, it was all hard work, and only 
pride prevented either Nancy from flinging herself 
down and declaring that she could go no farther 
and must rest. Side by side they toiled over the 
point of rocks which shut off the second beach, 
and from which they looked to see the tug, and 
the children playing on the sand. They reached 
the top and stood aghast. No tug was there ! It 


THE TWO GOATS 


165 


had gone from the shore, and presently, far off at 
sea, they spied a tiny curl of rising smoke. Then 
they knew all, — Miss Alicia had forgotten them, 
or miscounted, and had sailed, leaving them 
behind. They were alone upon the island — all 
alone ! What should they do ? 

Nancy Sarkie flung herself down on the ground 
in a paroxysm of despair. The other Nancy 
stood upright and looked about her. A tear 
rolled down her face. She wiped it away with 
the back of her hand. For a time no sound was 
heard but the lapping of the water and the 
muffled sobs of Nancy Sarkie. At last, Nancy 
Spence glanced down at the wretched little 
crumpled heap beside her, and trying to make 
her voice sound brave, said : 

There 's no use crying. Don’t lie there, 
Nancy. You ’ll catch an awful cold. Let us run 
on and see if the fire the boys lit has gone out. 
If it has n’t, we can dry ourselves.” 

“ Oh, Mother, Mother ! We shall die — I know 


166 


THE TWO GOATS 


we shall die ! moaned Nancy Sarkie, who, for 
all her perversity and fierce speeches, was help- 
less as a baby the moment trouble came. Nancy 
Spence was of more courageous stuff. 

Oh, no/* she said, we sha’ n’t die. They ’ll 
find out as soon as they land that we’re left 
behind, and send somebody for us. Come, 
Nancy — come with me and see about the 
fire.” 

Nancy Sarkie suffered herself to be coaxed 
from her crouching position at last, and they 
went on down the beach. The boys had pulled 
apart the brands the last thing before they sailed, 
but the fire smouldered still. Judiciously fanned 
and fed with dry twigs, it soon flamed up brightly. 
Searching for fuel, the girls lighted on other 
treasures — a hard egg, a piece of thick bread 
and butter, and a scrap of cake, to which still 
clung a fragment of rosy icing. 

^‘That’s the pink cake I didn’t have any of,” 
said Nancy Sarkie. 


THE TWO GOATS 167 

Well, you shall have all of this ; I don’t want 
any,” replied Nancy Spence, good-naturedly. 

She felt sorry for the other Nancy, and did not 
find it hard to speak pleasantly now. 

^‘What’s that dark thing under the bush?” 
she cried. Oh, Nancy, Nancy ! is n’t this good ? 
Here’s that old blanket that Miss Alicia had 
round the hamper. They’ve forgotten and left 
it behind. Now we shall hardly be cold a bit.” 

Their dresses were more than half dry by this 
time, which was fortunate, for the sun was setting 
and the evening growing chill. Side by side the 
two cuddled under the blanket close to the fire. 
It was not very warm, it must be confessed, for 
while the heat scorched their faces, their backs 
were always conscious of a creeping chill. Desert 
islands, I rather think, are not comfortable places 
except now and then in a story-book. The girls 
lay without speaking for a long time ; then Nancy 
Spence heard a tiny sob close to her ear, which 
made her turn over in surprise. 


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“Why, what’s the matter, dear?” cried she, 
forgetting all cause of quarrel, and speaking as 
kindly as if Nancy Sarkie had been any other girl. 

“ Oh, it ’s so miserable ! I keep thinking about 
wolves and robbers, and wishing my mother were 
here.” 

The wretched, tearful face rolled over on to 
Nancy’s shoulder. Nancy put her arms out to 
the sobbing child, and the other Nancy clung tight. 

“Don’t cry — don’t,” said Nancy Spence, 
soothingly. “There aren’t any wolves or rob- 
bers on Helm Island, I’m sure; and we’ll see 
our mothers again to-morrow. Don’t cry.” 

“ How kind you are ! ” said the little Nancy, 
wondering. “I didn’t know you ever could be 
so good. I used to be real hateful to you, Nancy. 
But I ’m sorry now.” 

“ I was hateful, too, and I ’m sorry.” 

“I’ll not be so any more,” murmured Nancy 
Sarkie. ^^I like you now, ever so much. But 
you ’ll never like me, because I acted so.” 


THE TWO GOATS 


169 


Oh, yes, I will. I like you a great deal bet- 
ter already. I like you very much indeed.” 

The two Nancys kissed one another. 

I ’m getting sleepy,” whispered Nancy Sarkie. 

Meanwhile, on the dock at Lanark, six miles 
away, a heartrending scene was taking place. 
No sooner had Miss Alicia landed and marshalled 
her flock than she discovered that two were miss- 
ing. Mrs. Sarkie and Mrs. Spence were in great 
distress, but scarcely greater than poor Miss 
Alicia, who tearfully protested that she couldn’t 
think how it happened; such a thing never did 
before. Farmer Spence and Farmer Sarkie hur- 
ried to and fro, questioning, consulting, discuss- 
ing; the smaller children cried, and all the town 
was in a ferment. 

It was finally decided that a sailboat should 
at once set out for Helm Island. 

I shall go, of course,” said Mr. Sarkie. 

And I shall go,” asserted Mr. Spence. 

He spoke like one who expects contradiction ; but 


170 


THE TWO GOATS 


no one disputed him, and the boat pushed out, the 
two fathers seated side by side in the stern. The 
wind was a fair one and blew them swiftly along. 

‘^What could keep the lasses from starting 
with the rest ? ” said Mr. Sarkie. 

He was too anxious to observe the fact that he 
had included his enemy’s daughter with his own 
under the general term of the lasses.” 

God send we find ’em safe,” groaned Farmer 
Spence. 

The sail seemed a long one to the anxious men, 
but was in fact short, for they reached Helm 
Island in less than two hours. No sooner had 
the keel of the boat grazed the sand than the two 
fathers sprang out and hurried up the beach. 

We ’ll search this side before we try the 
other,” said Farmer Spence. ^‘The cliffs are all 
over that way. There are none here.” 

What ’s that ? ” cried Farmer Sarkie. 

It was the glimmer of the fire which had 
caught his eye. They hurried forward. There, 


THE TWO GOATS 


171 


close to the flickering embers, was a dark heap, 
which rustled and stirred. Farmer Spence stooped 
and lifted a corner of the blanket. There lay the 
two children, clasped tight in each other’s arms, 
and fast asleep. 

Merciful Lord ! Here they are ! ” he said 
huskily. 

The sound roused the Nancys. They moved 
— started — sat up. 

“ Oh, oh ! what is it ? Who are you ? Father ! 
It ’s my father, Nancy ! ” 

And mine, too ! ” And the Nancys, lifted 
each into the arms of her own special parent, 
kissed and clung and cried. 

^^Oh, it’s been dreadful,” sobbed Nancy Sarkie, 
‘^but Nancy Spence was so brave — a great deal 
braver than me. Father. She wrapped me up and 
dried my clothes, and was so kind.” 

^‘We’re going to be friends now. Father,” 
broke in Nancy Spence. never knew what 
a nice girl Nancy Sarkie was before. We may 


172 


THE TWO GOATS 


be friends, mayn’t we? You don’t mind, do 
you. Father? ” And she and Nancy Sarkie took 
hold of each other’s hands. 

The two farmers regarded each other by the 
light of the moon. Farmer Sarkie cleared his 
throat once or twice. Then: 

Neighbor,” he said, we’ve been at logger- 
heads now these twelve years or more. I won’t 
say who was right in the matter, or who was 
wrong, but only this : If you ’re so minded, we ’ll 
strike hands here and end the matter. These 
girls of ours set us an example.” 

You ’re in tlie right of it, neighbor,” re- 
plied Farmer Spence. ^‘There’s my hand, and 
it sha’ n’t be my fault if we fall out again.” 

The Nancys hugged each other. 

So ended the famous Spence and Sarkie quar- 
rel, and, in spite of fright and wetting, four light 
hearts sailed back across the dark sea that night 
to Lanark village. 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


t 


THE FOX AND THE STOEK 


I N St. Nicholas for September, 1876, I saw 
an illustration, by Gustave Dor^, of the well- 
known fable of the Fox and the Stork/’ and it 
reminded me of something that happened less 
than one hundred years ago. You shall hear 
the story. 

Cock-a-doodle-doo ! ” crowed the red cock, 
youngest, handsomest, and earliest riser of all 
the cocks in the poultry-yard. His rival, the 
old yellow cock, had gone to roost overnight 
with the full determination to be first up the 
next morning. But age is sleepy, and his head 
was still under his wing when the challenge of 
his victorious foe rang out upon the air. Being 
second is next best to being first, however, so 
he, too, flapped his wings, crowed loudly, sprang 
from the perch, followed by his wives and chil- 


176 THE FOX AND THE STORK 

dren, and in five minutes, clucking and cackling, 
the poultry-yard was alive with motion, and the 
chicken-day had fairly begun. 

Wasp, the red terrier, heard the noise through 
his slumbers, yawned, stretched himself, turned 
around once or twice as if to make sure that his 
tail was where he left it the night before ; then, 
jumping against the side of the house, he barked 
lustily. Half a minute later a window above 
opened, and a red object was thrust out. This 
red object was Rufus Swift’s head, shaggy from 
sleep and not yet combed and brushed for the 
day. 

“ Hurray ! ” he cried. ‘‘No rain after all ! 
Wasp, stop barking! Do you hear me, sir? 
You ^11 wake Mother and give her a headache, 
and I want her in good-humor this day of all 
days.” 

Wasp understood the tone, if not the words, 
and changed his bark to a low whine. Rufus 
drew in his head, and proceeded to wash and 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


177 


dress as fast as possible. He had many plans 
on foot and much to do, for this was the day on 
which his schoolfellow, Leggy Beekman, was to 
make him a visit. 

Leggy’s real name was Leggett, but as a 
schoolboy he was bound to have a nickname, 
and being of a tall, spare figure, Leggy” struck 
the other boys as rather a happy allusion to facts. 
Eufus had been but a few months at the school, 
and he and Leggett were almost strangers, 
but, finding that their homes were near each 
other, Rufus made the most of the acquaintance, 
and teased his mother for leave to ask Leggett 
to spend a day, till at last she consented. 

Mrs. Swift was a timid old lady, who dreaded 
boys and noise and confusion generally. She 
regarded Leggett as a formidable person, for 
when she asked Rufus what he would like by 
way of an entertainment for his friend, he an- 
swered, without hesitation: rat-hunt, a sail 

on the lake, and tickets for the juggler.” 

12 


178 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


Oh, dear me ! cried poor Mrs. Swift. I ’ll 
send you to see the juggler and welcome, Rufy, 
but a rat-hunt ! How can boys like such things ! 
Are you sure Master Beekman does ? ” 

^^Why, Mother, of course, all boys like ’em,” 
replied Rufus, purposely vague, for in truth he 
knew little about Leggett’s likings and dislikings. 
^‘Rat-hunts are prime fun. And this is a prime 
time to have one, for the south barn is just swarm- 
ing. Wasp and Fury ’ll pitch into ’em like sixty.” 

^^Then that lake — I do dread it so much,” 
went on Mrs. Swift ; it always seemed danger- 
ous to me. Don’t you think your friend would 
like something else just as well? ” 

Fudge about danger,” said disrespectful Ru- 
fus. ^^Now, Mother, don’t forget, please. I 
won’t have Beekman at all unless we can have 
a good time. You said I might take my choice 
and do just what I wanted the day he came, 
and I choose the rat-hunt and the sail and the 
juggler.” 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 179 

Mrs. Swift sighed and submitted. After all, 
it was only kind in Rufus to plan to give his 
schoolmate the things he enjoyed, she thought. 
She liked to have him unselfish and hospit- 
able. But there was little hospitality in Rufus’ 
thoughts, and no unselfishness. His plans were 
for his own benefit, not Leggett’s, and he had 
no idea of consulting anybody’s tastes but his 
own. 

About eleven o’clock the visitor arrived. Mrs. 
Swift came downstairs rather timidly ; a boy who 
preferred sailing and rat-hunting to anything else 
must, she thought, be an alarming fellow. But 
Leggett did not look alarming in the least. He 
was a tall, loose-jointed, long-limbed boy, with a 
narrow, sallow face, hooked nose, and a pair of 
dark, short-sighted eyes. He had a way of put- 
ting his head close to things in order to see them, 
which gave him an odd, solemn appearance not 
at all boylike. But, in spite of this and his awk- 
ward figure, he was a gentlemanly lad, and his 


180 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


bow and pleasant way of speaking made Mrs. 
Swift many degrees less afraid of him before he 
had been five minutes in the room. 

Stout, active, freckled little Eufus danced about 
his guest, and would scarcely give him time to 
speak, so impatient was he to begin the day. 

Oh, come along, Leggy,’ ' he broke in, 
“you 11 see my mother at dinner. Don’t waste 
time talking now. Come out with me to the 
barn.’^ 

“The barn?” said Leggett, squinting up his 
eyes to make out the subject of a print which 
hung on the wall. 

“Yes; we’re going to have a rat-hunt, you 
know. My dogs. Wasp and Fury, are great on 
rats, and I’ve set Jack, our farm-boy, to poke 
out the holes, and it’ll be prime fun. Come 
along.” 

Leggett hesitated, and Mrs. Swift detected a 
look which was not all of pleasure. 

“Perhaps Master Beekman would rather do 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


181 


something else ” she began, but Rufus 

pulled at his guest’s arm, and cried: 

^‘Mother, what rubbish ” and Leggett, 

too polite to resist, followed to the barn. 

Jack was in waiting with the terriers. The 
doors were closed, the dogs sniffed and whined, 
Jack poked and pried in the holes. Presently 
a rat sprang out, then another, and confusion 
dire set in. Squeaking wildly, the terrified rats 
ran to and fro, the dogs in full chase. Jack hal- 
looing them on and ^‘jabbing with a stick, 
Rufus, wild with excitement, clattering after. 
Dust rose from the floor in clouds, the lofts 
above echoed the din, and so entirely was Rufus 
absorbed by the sport that it was not until half 
an hour had passed, and three rats lay dead upon 
the ground, that he remembered the existence of 
his visitor, and only then because he happened 
to stumble over his legs. Leggett was sitting 
in the corner on an inverted corn-measure, look- 
ing rather pale. 


182 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


Hallo, Beekman, are you there ? Why don’t 
you pitch ini” remarked Rufus. ‘^It’s famous 
fun, is n’t it I You don’t mean to say you don’t 
like it I” 

“Not much,” said Leggett. “I don’t like to 
see things killed.” 

“Ho! That’s a good one. Jack, hear this. 
Here ’s a boy who don’t like to see things killed.” 

“As I don’t,” went on Leggett, “perhaps 
you’ll excuse me if I leave you to finish the 
rats alone. I ’ll sit with your mother, or wait 
under the trees till you get through.” 

Leggett’s manner was so polite that it re- 
minded Rufus to be polite also. 

“No, hang it,” he said. “If you don’t care 
for it, we’ll put off the hunt till another day. 
What a queer chap you are 1 ” he continued, as 
they went along ; “ you ’re not a bit like the rest 
of the fellows. Why don’t you like to see rats 
killed I” 

“ I don’t know. They are nuisances, of course. 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


183 


but it strikes me as a low sort of fun to enjoy see- 
ing their fright and hearing them squeak.” 

“ My eye ! How mighty and genteel we are ! 
What does your worship like, may I ask, if rats 
are too ‘ low ’ to suit ? ” 

“ It was rude of me to use the word,” said 
Leggett, apologetically. Excuse me, Rufus. 
What shall we do next?” 

“Oh, we'll take a sail,” said Rufus, whose 
programme had been exactly laid out before- 
hand. “ There ^s the boat, under the trees. I 'll 
take you up to the head of the lake.” 

“ Sailing ? ” said Leggett. “ I 'm sorry, Rufus, 
but I can’t.” 

“ Can't ? Why not ? ” 

“Why, you see, I'm under a promise not to 
go on the water.” 

“A promise! Stuff! What sort of a prom- 
ise?” cried Rufus, who could not bear to be 
put out. 

Leggett blushed painfully. 


184 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


The promise is to my mother/' he said, speak- 
ing with an effort. ‘^My father was drowned, 
you see, and she has a great fear of the water for 
me. I gave her my word that I wouldn't get 
into a sailboat, and I must keep it.” 

“Oh, if that's all,” said Eufus, “come along. 
My mother fidgets just so — all women do ; but 
it's nonsense. There's old Tom hoisting the 
sail. You'll be as safe as if on dry land. And 
your mother 'll never know — come on." 

“ I thought you heard me say that I had given 
my word,” said Leggett, seating himself deliber- 
ately under a tree. 

“ Confound your promises ! " exclaimed Rufus, 
angrily ; “I 'm not going to lose my sail, any 
way. I don’t get leave often, and Tom is n't to 
be had every day, so if you won’t go I shall just 
go without you." 

“ Pray do," said Leggett. “ I will sit here and 
watch you off." 

Rufus was too hot and vexed to realize what 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 185 

an uncivil thing he was doing. Without another 
word he bounded down the bank, sprang into the 
boat, and in five minutes her white sail was 
speeding up the lake. Leggett lay under the 
trees a while, then walked to the house, and when, 
two hours later, Rufus sought for him, he was found 
bending his short-sighted eyes over a book, which 
he had taken from the shelf in the parlor. 

^‘YouVe had a dull time, I’m afraid,” said 
Rufus, feeling some belated pricks of conscience. 

^^Oh, no,” replied Leggett; ^‘IVe done very 
well. This is a book I was wishing to see.” 

I ’ll lend it you if you like,” said Rufus, gen- 
erous enough in things which cost him nothing. 
Leggett accepted the offer amicably, and matters 
went smoothly till dinner-time. 

^*Have you had a pleasant morning?” asked 
old Mrs. Swift, as she carved the roast goose. 

Splendid,” said Rufus. Leggett said nothing. 

^^And a nice sail?” she continued, amiably 
desirous to be civil to Rufus’ friend. 


186 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


First-rate/' answered Rufus, and again Leg- 
gett was silent. 

‘‘And now you’re to see the jugglers,” went 
on the old lady. “ Rufy, you ’ll find the tickets 
on the chimney-piece, back of your pa’s daguer- 
reotype.” 

“All right, Mother,” said Rufus, and Leggett 
looked pleased, for, as it happened, he had never 
seen a juggler. 

But, alas ! Jack wanted to speak to Rufus after 
dinner, and Rufus went off with him to the barn 
for half an hour, so, though the friends walked 
fast to the town, they reached the show so late 
that they had to take back seats. This did not 
matter to Rufus, but it mattered very much 
indeed to Leggett, whose short sight prevented 
him from seeing anything clearly. 

“What is it? What did he do? I could not 
make it out,” he would ask, while Rufus, jumping 
up and down with delight, ejaculated : “ Famous ! 
Capital! I never saw anything so good.” 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 187 

Do try to tell me. What was it he did ? ’’ 

Oh, such a queer game ! He stuck a hand- 
kerchief inside a bottle, you see,” — but just then 
the conjurer proceeding to pound a lady’s watch 
in a mortar, Rufus forgot his unfinished sentence, 
and poor Leggett never learned what became of 
the pocket-handkerchief. This fate followed him 
through the entire performance, which left him 
with a headache, a pair of smarting eyes, and a 
mind full of puzzles. 

Tea, muffins, cakes, and country sweetmeats of 
all sorts were awaiting them at the Red Farm, 
and kind old Mrs. Swift hoping they had enjoyed 
themselves, Rufus energetically declared that he 
had. After tea, Leggett’s pony was brought 
around, and he said good-bye, asking Rufus to 
come over the next week and spend a day with 
him. 

can’t offer you any sailing; you know 
why,” he said good-humoredly. ‘^But I shall 
be glad to see you.” 


188 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


^^All right,” said Rufus. be sure to 

come. Thursday, you said?” 

‘‘Yes; Thursday.” 

The boys parted, and Leggett trotted away. 

Leggett’s mother listened to his account of the 
visit with a smile which was shrewd and a little 
malicious. She was, like her boy, thin of figure, 
long of face, with the same keen nose and short- 
sighted eyes. 

“ Hum ! Rat-hunting, sailing, a juggler ! ” she 
said. “ Master Swift fancies these things himself, 
I imagine. The little fox ! Well, what will you 
do to amuse him when he returns your visit ? ” 

“I’m not sure. What would be best, 
Mamma ? ” 

“ Let me see,” and Mrs. Beekman’s eyes 
twinkled wickedly. “There are your micro- 
scopic objects, — you could show him those, and 
your medals and your cabinet of shells. And — 
yes^ the very thing ! Professor Peters gives his 
chemical lecture in the afternoon. That will be 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


189 


sure to be interesting ; you remember how much 
you liked the others.” 

‘^So I did!” cried Leggett. ^‘That will be 
first-rate, won’t it? Only,” his face falling, 
perhaps Rufus might think it dull. He ’s such 
an active fellow.” 

Oh, he may like it,” said his mother. He 
ought to. If he knows nothing about chemistry, 
it will all be new to him. And there is a good 
deal of popping and exploding in the course of 
the experiments; all boys enjoy that. We’ll 
settle it so, Leggett, — all your curiosities for the 
morning, and the lecture in the afternoon.” 

‘‘Very well,” said Leggett, unsuspectingly; 
while his mother, who had much ado not to 
laugh, kept her face perfectly serious, lest he 
should guess her mischievous intention. 

Rufus, for once in his life, felt awkward, as he 
walked into Mrs. Beekman’s parlor. His own 
home was comfortable and handsome, but here 
were all sorts of things which he was not used to 


190 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


see, — pictures, busts, globes, cabinets of fossils 
and stones, stuffed birds, and instruments of 
which he did not know the name or use. Leg- 
gett’s father had been a man of science ; his wife 
shared his tastes, and had carefully trained her 
son’s mind in the same direction. Rufus glanced 
at these strange objects out of the corners of his 
eyes, and felt oddly sheepish as Mrs. Beekman, 
tall and dignified, came forward to shake hands 
with him. 

Leggett will be here in a moment,” she said; 
he was busy in arranging a fly’s wing on one 
of his microscope glasses. Ah, here he is.” 

As she spoke, Leggett hurried into the room. 

The boys shook hands. There was a little 
talk; then Mrs. Beekman said graciously: 

Perhaps your friend would like to see your 
room, Leggett, and your collections. Take him 
upstairs ; but don’t get so absorbed as to forget 
that to-day we dine early, in order to leave time 
for the lecture.” 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


191 


Leggett’s room was a pleasant little study, 
fitted up with presses and book-shelves. It had 
a large, delightful window looking out into the 
tree-tops. His bed-chamber opened from it, and 
both were cozy and convenient as heart of boy 
could wish. Leggett was fond of his rooms, and 
proud to exhibit them to one of his school- 
fellows. 

See,” he said. Here are my books, and 
my shells, and my coins, and here I keep my 
plaster medals. And this is my mineral cabinet. 
Would you like to look over the minerals ? ” 

No, thank you ; I don^t care much for 
stones,” said Rufus. 

‘^Well, here’s my microscope,” said Leggett, 
^‘and I’ve got some splendid slides! Take this 
chair, Rufus ; it ’s just the right height for the 
glass.” 

Rufus rather unwillingly took the chair, and 
Leggett proceeded to exhibit and explain his 
beloved specimens, expatiating on chalk-shells, 


192 


^THE FOX AND THE STORK 


moth- wings and infusoria^ till, suddenly, a great, 
noisy yawn on the part of Rufus made him desist 
with a jump. 

“I'm afraid this is boring you/' he said, in an 
embarrassed tone. 

“Well, rather," confessed Rufus, with a dread- 
ful frankness. 

“Would you rather see my medals, then?" 
asked Leggett, pulling out a drawer. But Rufus 
could not be induced to show any interest in the 
medals beyond calling the Emperor Commodus 
“ the old chap with a nose " ; so Leggett, discom- 
fited, shut the drawer again. Shells and coins 
were equally unsuccessful, and Leggett was at 
his wits' end to know what to do next, when the 
ringing of the dinner-bell relieved him of his 
perplexity. 

Perhaps Mrs. Beekman had a guess as to how 
the morning had gone, Rufus came downstairs 
looking so bored, and Leggett so tired and anx- 
ious ; but she was very attentive and civil, gave 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


193 


large helps of everything, and as Rufus’ appetite 
was not at all impaired by his sufferings, dinner 
passed off with great success, excepting in the 
case of a dainty little dish of frogs’ legs, stewed 
delicately in a nice brown gravy. Leggett and 
his mother were foreign enough in their tastes to 
like this out-of-the-way dainty; but Rufus, who 
had never seen such before, was horrified. 

Frogs!” he cried. thought nobody but 
cranes, and birds like that, ate frogs. What 
would my mother say ^ ” 

“ ‘ Cranes, and birds like that,’ show very 
good taste, then,” remarked Mrs. Beekman, help- 
ing herself composedly. But Rufus could not 
be persuaded to touch the frogs’ legs. 

The dessert was hurried a little, Mrs. Beekman 
remarking that they must make haste in order to 
miss none of the lecture, while Leggett eagerly 
explained what a delightful treat lay before them. 

Dr. Peters is a great gun, you know,” he 
said. ‘‘ Some of the experiments in the other 

13 


194 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 


lectures have been splendid. You’d like to go, 
Rufus ? There ’s all sorts of fizzing and popping, 
and green-and-red flames, and interesting things.” 

^^Ye-es,” replied Rufus; but if ever a boy’s 
face expressed dismay his did at that moment. 
The prospect of possible pops and fizzes alone 
enabled him to meet the proposal with common 
politeness. 

Poor Rufus. It was indeed a black afternoon 
for him. As it turned out, none of the explosions 
which Leggett had described occurred in the 
experiments, and the lecture was full of technical 
terms and phrases which Leggett, having studied 
chemistry a good deal, understood, but which 
were unmeaning to Rufus, who found the whole 
thing inexpressibly dull. Disconsolate and de- 
pressed, he sat swallowing his yawns, while Leg- 
gett, forgetting everything else, listened with 
bright-eyed interest, only turning now and then 
to his mother for a look of sympathy, quite un- 
conscious of what his guest was enduring. Their 


THE FOX AND THE STORK 195 

seat was close to the lecturer, so that Leggett 
could see every step of the process, and his pleas- 
ure was thorough and complete. 

It has been interesting, has n’t it ? ” said Mrs. 
Beekman, on the way home ; or was it a little 
over your head. Master Rufus I I feared it might 
be, as you did not hear the rest of the course.” 

Rufus muttered something indistinct, which 
nobody could hear, and walked on in sulky 
silence. In silence he ate his supper; then his 
horse was brought to the door, and he made 
ready to go. 

“ Good-bye,” said his hostess ; I hope you ’ll 
come again. Leggett was a little anxious as to 
how he should entertain you, but I told him he 
would better just do as you did, and let you share 
the things which he himself liked and enjoyed. 
A good way, — don’t you think so ? Good-bye.” 

And with these words Mamma Beekman dis- 
missed Master Swift to his home. 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 



I 

( 


■ * 


J 


I 


i 


!l 



THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 


A certain young mastifE being near dog’s estate, his master 
judged best to trim and shorten his ears. This the mastiff thought 
hard, and complained accordingly. But as he grew older and met 
dogs of various tempers, he was often obliged to fight for himself 
and his rights : then his short ears gave great advantage, for they 
furnished no hold to the enemies’ teeth, while the long-eared dogs, 
whom he had formerly envied, came from the fray torn and suffer- 
ing. “Aha!” said the mastiff, “my master knew better than I 
what was good for me.” — Old Fable. 

B ut why must n’t I ? said Towser. 

Towser was not a dog, as you might sup- 
pose, but the nickname of a boy. Exactly why his 
school-fellows should have chosen this nickname 
for Tom Kane I don’t know ; perhaps because his 
brown, short-nosed face was a little like a dog’s 
— perhaps because he was bold and resolute, a 
good fighter, and tough in defence of his rights 
and opinions. I hardly think it was this last 
reason, however. Boys are not much given to 
analyzing character, and are apt to judge things 


200 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 


and people by a happy-go-lucky instinct, which 
sometimes leads them right and sometimes wrong. 
But whatever the reason may have been, Towser 
was Tom’s school-name, and it stuck to him 
through life. Even his wife called him so, — 
when he grew up and had a wife, — and the last 
time I saw him, his little girl was stroking his 
hair and saying, Papa Towser,” in imitation of 
her mother. Towser is n’t a pretty name, but it 
sounded pretty from Baby May’s lips, and I 
never heard that Tom objected to the title, either 
as man or boy. 

But to return to the time when he was a boy. 

Why must n’t I ? ” he said again. All the 
fellows are going except me, and I ’d like to 
ever so much.” 

‘^It isn’t a question of like,” answered his 
father, rather grimly. “It’s a question of can 
and can’t. All the other boys have rich fathers ; 
or, if not rich, they are not poor like me. It ’s 
well enough that their sons should go off on 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 201 

camping parties. Twenty-five dollars here and 
twenty there is n’t much to any of ’em, but it ’s 
a great deal for you. And what’s more, Tom, 
there ’s this : that if they ’d take you for nothing, 
it is n’t a good thing for you, any way you fix it. 
I pay for your schooling, and I paid for those 
boxing lessons, and may be, another year. I’ll 
manage the subscription to the boat, for I want 
you to grow up strong and ready with your fists, 
and your mind, and all parts of you. You’ll 
have to fight you way, my boy, and I want you 
to turn out true grit when the tussle comes. But 
when it ’s a case of camping out a week, or extra 
holidays, or spending money for circuses and min- 
strels and such trash, I shut down. You ’ll be all 
the better off in the end without this fun and idling 
and getting your head full of the idea of always 
having a ‘good time.’ Work ^s what you’re 
meant for, and if you don’t thank me now for 
bringing you up tough, you will when you ’re a 
man, with maybe a boy of your own.” 


202 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 


Mr. Kane was a silent, gruff, long-headed man, 
who never wasted words, and this, the longest 
speech he had ever been known to make, im- 
pressed Towser not a little. He did say to him- 
self, in a grumbling tone, Pretty hard, I think, 
to be cut off so at every turn,” but he said it 
softly, and only once, and before long his face 
cleared, and, taking his hat, he went to tell the 
boys that he could n’t join the camping party. 

^‘Well, I say it’s a confounded shame!” de- 
clared Tom White. 

“I call your pa real mean,” joined in Archie 
Berkley. 

‘‘You’d better not call him anything of the 
kind while I ’m around,” said Towser, with an 
angry look in his eyes, and Archie shrank and 
said no more. Tom was vexed and sore enough 
at heart, but he wasn’t going to let any boy 
speak disrespectfully of his father. 

“I say, though,” whispered Harry Blake, get- 
ting his arm around Tom’s neck, and leading him 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 203 


away from the others, I ’m real disappointed, 
old fellow. Could n^t it be managed ? I 'd lend 
you half the money/' 

Harry's mother was a widow, well off, and 
very indulgent, and he had more pocket-money 
at command than any one else in the school. 

Towser shook his head. 

No use," he said. “ Father don’t want me 
to go, for more reasons than the money. He 
says I ’ve got to work hard all my life, and I ’d 
better not get into the way of having good 
times ; it ’d soften me, and I ’d not do so well by 
and by.” 

How horrid ! ’’ cried Harry, with a shudder. 

I ’m glad Mother doesn’t talk that way.” 

Harry Blake was fair and slender, with auburn 
hair, which waved naturally, and a delicate throat 
as white as a girl’s. 

Tom looked at him with a sort of rough, pity- 
ing tenderness. 

^^I’m glad, too,” he said. You’d die if you 


204 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 

had to rough it much, Harry. I ’m tougher, you 
see. It won^t hurt me.’’ 

A sturdy satisfaction came with these words 
that almost made up for the disappointment about 
the camping out. 

Still, it was pretty hard to see the boys start 
without him. Ten days later they returned. The 
mosquitoes were very thick, they said, and they 
hadn’t caught so many fish as they expected. 
Joe Bryce had hurt his hand with a gun-lock, 
and Harry Blake was half sick with a cold. 
Still, they had had a pretty good time on the 
whole. Mr. Kane listened to this report with a 
dry twinkle in his eyes. 

“Two hundred dollars gone in giving twenty 
young fellows a ‘pretty good’ time,” he said. 
“Well, all the fools aren’t dead yet. You stick 
to what you Ve about, Towser, my boy.” 

And Towser did stick, not only then, but 
again and again as time went on, and first this 
scheme and then that was started for the amuse- 



“ At sixteen . 


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THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 205 


ment of the boys. Now it was an excursion to 
Boston; next, the formation of an amateur rifle 
company; after that a voyage to the fishing- 
banks. Every few months something was pro- 
posed, which fired Towser’s imagination, and 
made him want to join, but always his father 
held firm, and he had no share in the frolics. It 
seemed hard enough, but Mr. Kane was kind as 
well as strict; he treated his son as if he were 
already a man, and argued with him from a 
man’s point of view ; so, in spite of an occasional 
outburst or grumble, Towser did not rebel, and 
his life and ideas gradually moulded themselves 
to his father’s wish. 

At sixteen, while most of the other boys were 
fitting for college, Towser left school and went 
into the great Perrin Iron Works to learn the 
business of machine-making. He began at the 
foot of the ladder; but, being quick-witted and 
steady, with a natural aptitude for mechanics, he 
climbed rapidly, and by the time he was twenty 


206 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 


was promoted to a foremanship. Harry Blake 
came home from college soon after, having grad- 
uated with the dignity of a second dispute,” as 
a quizzical friend remarked, and settled at home, 
to read law,” he said, but in reality to practise 
the flute, make water-color sketches and waste a 
good deal of time in desultory pursuits of va- 
rious kinds. He was a sweet-tempered, gentle- 
manly fellow, not strong in health, and not at all 
fond of study ; and Tom, who overtopped him by 
a head and with one muscular arm could manage 
him like a child, felt for him the tender deference 
which strength often pays to weakness. It was 
almost as if Harry had been a girl; but Tom 
never thought of it in that light. 

So matters went on till Towser was twenty- 
one, and beginning to hope for another rise in 
position, when suddenly a great black cloud 
swooped down on the Perrin Iron Works. I 
don’t mean a real cloud, but a cloud of trouble. 
All the country felt its dark influence. Banks 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 207 


stopped payment, merchants failed, stocks lost 
their value, no one knew what or whom to trust, 
and the wheels of industry everywhere were at 
a standstill. Among the rest the Perrin Com- 
pany was forced to suspend work and discharge 
its hands. Tom was a trusted fellow, and so 
much in the confidence of his employers as to 
know for some time beforehand of the change 
that was coming. He stayed to the end, to help 
wind up books and put matters in order, and he 
and Mr. Perrin were the last persons to walk out 
of the big door. 

“Good-bye, Tom,” said Mr. Perrin, as he 
turned the key in the heavy lock, and stopped a 
moment to shake hands. “You ’ve done well by 
us, and if things are ever so that we can take an- 
other start, we T do well by you in our turn.” 

They shook hands, and Tom walked away with 
a month’s wages in his pocket and no particular 
idea what to do next. Was he downhearted! 
Not at all. There was something somewhere that 


208 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 


he could do ; that, he was sure of ; and, although 
he looked grave, he whistled cheerily enough as 
he marched along. 

Suddenly turning a corner, he ran upon Harry 
Blake, walking in a listless, dejected way, which 
at once caught his attention. 

Hallo — what ’s up ? ” inquired Tom. 

Have n't you heard?" replied Harry, in a 
melancholy voice. ^^The Tiverton Bank has 
gone to smash with most of our money in it ! " 

Your money ! ” 

‘^My mother’s. It’s the same thing exactly." 

Was it much ? Is the bank gone for good ? " 

‘^Sure smash, they say, and seven-eighths of 
all we have.” 

Tom gave a whistle of dismay. 

‘^Well, HaiTy, what next?" he demanded. 

Have you thought of anything to do ? " 

No. What can I do ? " Harry’s voice sounded 
hopeless enough. 

What could Harry do ? Tom, who had never 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 209 

wasted a nighfs sleep over his own future, lay 
awake more than once debating this question. 
Hard times were hard times to him, as well as 
to everybody else, but he had a little money laid 
by, his habits were simple, and to pinch for a 
while cost him small suffering ; besides, he could 
turn his hand to almost anything — but poor 
Harry ? One plan after another suggested itself 
and was proposed, but each in turn proved a 
failure. Harry lacked bodily strength for one 
position, for another he had not the requisite 
training, still another was unsuited to his taste, 
and a fourth sounded so ^^ungenteel” that his 
mother would not listen to it. It would break 
her heart she said. Tom himself got a tempo- 
rary place in a locomotive-shop, which tided him 
over the crisis, and enabled him to lend a helping 
hand, not to Harry only, but to one or two other 
old comrades whose families had lost everything 
and were in extremity. But these small aids 
were not enough. Permanent situations were 

14 


210 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 

what were needed. At last Harry obtained a 
clerkship in a drug-store. He disliked it, and 
his mother hated it, but nothing better offered, 
and it is to his credit that he did the work 
well and diligently, and only relieved his mind 
by private grumblings to Towser in the even- 
ings. 

I ’ll tell you what,” said Tom one night, after 
patiently listening to one of these lamentations, 
^^you boys used to think my father strict with 
me when we were at school together, but I’ve 
come to the conclusion that he was a wise man. 
Where should I be now if I ’d grown up soft and 
easily hurt, like you ? Giving knocks and taking 
knocks — that’s what a business man’s life is, 
and it’s a good thing to be toughened for it. I 
used to feel hard to my father about it too, some- 
times, but I thank him heartily now,” and he 
held out his brown, strong hand, and looked at it 
curiously and affectionately. Well he might. 
Those hands were keys to pick Fortune’s locks 


THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 211 


with, — only I ’m afraid Towser^s mind was 
hardly up to such a notion. 

‘^You’re right,” said Harry, after thinking a 
little, and your father was right. You Ve true 
grit, Towser, — up to any work that comes along, 
and sure to succeed, while I ’m as easily knocked 
down as a girl. I only wish I ’d had a wise 
father, and been raised tough like you.” 

Harry has repeated this wish a good many 
times in the years that have passed since then. 
Life has gone hardly with him, and business has 
always been distasteful, but he has kept on stead- 
ily, and his position has improved, thanks to 
Tom’s advice and help. Tom himself is a rich 
man now. He was long since taken in as a 
partner by the Perrin Company, which reopened 
its works the year after the panic, and is doing 
an immense business. He makes a sharp and 
energetic manager, but his open-handedness and 
open-heartedness grow with his growth, and pros- 
perity only furnishes wider opportunity for a wise 


212 THE MASTIFF AND HIS MASTER 

kindness to those who are less fortunate. His 
own good fortune he always ascribes to his 
father’s energetic training, and Mr. Kane, who 
is an elderly man now, likes to nod his head and 
reply : I told you so, my boy ; I told you so. 
A habit of honest work is the best luck and the 
best fortune a man can have.” 


I 


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Susan Coolidge’s Story Books 


Susan Coolidge has always possessed the affection of her young readers, for it seems as if 
she had the happy instinct of planning stories that each girl would like to act out in reality. 
— The Critic. 

Not even Miss Alcott apprehends child nature with finer sympathy, or pictures its nobler 
traits with more skill. — Boston Daily Advertiser. 

THE NEW YEAR’S BARGAIN. A Christmas Story for Chil- 
dren, With illustrations by Addie Ledyard. i6mo. $1.2^. 

WHAT KATY DID. A Story. With illustrations by Addie Led- 
yard. i6mo. $1.25. 

WHAT KATY DID AT SCHOOL. Being more about “What 
Katy Did.” With illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

MISCHIEF’S THANKSGIVING, and other Stories. With illus- 
trations by Addie Ledyard. i6mo. ^1.25. 

NINE LITTLE GOSLINGS. With illustrations by J. A. Mitchell, 
i6mo. ^^1.25. 

EYEBRIGHT. A Story. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.2^. 

CROSS PATCH. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

A ROUND DOZEN. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

A LITTLE COUNTRY GIRL. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

WHAT KATY DID NEXT. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.2$. 

CLOVER., A Sequel to the Katy Books. With illustrations by Jessie 
McDermott. i6mo. ^1.25. 

JUST SIXTEEN. With illustrations. i6mo. ^51.25. 

IN THE HIGH VALLEY. With illustrations. i6mo. $1.25. 

A GUERNSEY LILY; or, How the Feud was Healed. A Story 
of the Channel Islands. Profusely illustrated. i6mo. ^1.25. 

THE BARBERRY BUSH, and Seven Other Stories about Girls 
for Girls. With illustrations by Jessie McDermott. i6mo. $1.25. 

NOT QUITE EIGHTEEN. A volume of Stories. With illustra- 
tions by Jessie McDermott. i6mo. ^1.25. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY 

Publishers, 254WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


Miss A. G. Plympton’s Stories 


DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY. With seven illustrations by 
the author. Small 4to, $i.oo. 

The winsome little maid, with her loyalty and love, attracts our hearts as Little Lord 
Pauntleroy has done, and reveals the divine element in childhood. — Christian Union. 

DOROTHY AND ANTON. A Sequel to “ Dear Daughter Dor- 
othy.” With illustrations by the author. Small qto, $i.oo. 

BETTY, A BUTTERFLY. Illustrated by the author. Small 
4to, $1.00. 

THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED. Illustrated by the 
author. Small 4to, $i.oo. 

ROBIN’S RECRUIT. Illustrated by the author. Small 4to, $i.oo. 

PENELOPE PRIG, and Other Stories. Illustrated by the author. 
Small 4to, $i.oo. 

THE BLACK DOG, and Other Stories. With illustrations by the 
author. i6mo, $1.25. 

WANOLASSET. (The-Little-One-Who-Laughs.) Illustrated by 
the author. Small 4to, $1.25. 

The story, although intended for the young, is so good a picture of early New England 
days that their elders can read it with interest and profit. — Public Opinion. 

RAGS AND VELVET GOWNS. Illustrated by the author. 
i2mo, 50 cents. 

An idyllic word picture, prettily illustrated by the author. — Saturday Evening Gazette. 

A BUD OF PROMISE. A Story for Ambitious Parents. i6mo, 
50 cents. 

A WILLING TRANSGRESSOR, and Other Stories. i6mo, 
$1.25. 

A FLOWER OF THE WILDERNESS. With illustrations by 
the author. i2mo, $1.25. 

A CHILD OF GLEE. Illustrated. i2mo, $1.50. 

THE SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE WOODS. Illustrated. i2mo, 
$1.50. 

OLD HOME DAY AT HAZELTOWN. Illustrated by Clara 
E. Atwood. i2mo, $1.25. 


LITTLE, BROWN, ^ COMPANY 

Publishers, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


Nora Perry’s Books for Girls 


ANOTHER FLOCK OF GIRLS 

New Edition. Uniform with “Hope Benham,” “A Rosebud 
Garden of Girls,” and “ A Flock of Girls and Boys.” Illustrated 
by Reginald B. Birch and C. Copeland. lamo, $1.50. 

This favorite book includes “ May Bartlett’s Stepmother ” “ Tu-Ju’s 
Christmas Party,” “A New-Year’s Call,” “ Jenny’s Lark,” and “Sally 
Green’s Clambake Party.” 

As a writer of stories for girls. Miss Perry has hardly an tqxxaX. — Indianapolis News. 

Miss Perry knows how to make her maidens very bright, kindly, and spirited. — The 
Nation. 

For entertainment and thorough wholesomeness, Nora Perry’s books for girls have never 
been excelled. — Boston A dveriiser. 


HOPE BENHAM 

Illustrated by F. T. Merrill. i2mo, $1.50. 

Her stories are sympathetic, graphic, full of vivacity and movement, and always suggest 
unobtrusively fine points in personal integrity of character and in good breeding. — 
Current Literature. 


A ROSEBUD GARDEN OF GIRLS 

With fourteen illustrations by F. C. Gordon. i2mo, $1.50. 

Contents: The Cottage Neighbors; Bessie at Boarding-School ; Madie 
Grey’s Afternoon-Tea; A New-Year’s Dinner-Party; The Princess 
Emily ; The Little Housebreaker. 

Her children talk and act like healthy, natural girls and boys. — Literary World. 


A FLOCK OF GIRLS AND BOYS 

With Illustrations, initial letters, etc., by Charlotte Tiffany Parker. 
i2mo, $1.50. 

One of the few authors so thoroughly in sympathy with young girls as to be able to reach 
the innermost recesses of their loving hearts; and the many charming stories she has 
written place her on the same level with the much-loved Louisa Alcott, and we know of 
no higher tribute to her talent. — Baltimore A mericatt. 

LYIRCS AND LEGENDS 

Illustrated by Edmund H. Garrett. i6mo, $1.25. 


LITTLE, BROWN, G? COMPANY 

Publishers, 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 


AU6 37 I9W 

New Illustrated Editions of 
Miss Alcott’s Famous Stories 

THE LITTLE WOMEN SERIES 

By Louisa M. Alcott. Illustrated Edition. With eighty-four 
full-page plates from drawings especially made for this edition by 
Reginald B. Birch, Alice Barber Stephens, Jessie Willcox Smith, 
and Harriet Roosevelt Richards. Svols. Crown 8vo. Decorated 
cloth, gilt, in box, $16.00. 

Separately as follows : 

1. LITTLE MEN : Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys 

With 15 full-page illustrations by Reginald B. Birch. $2.00. 

2. LITTLE WOMEN : or Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy 

With 15 full-page illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00. 

3. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL 

With 12 full-page pictures by Jessie Willcox Smith. $2.00. 

4. JO’S BOYS, and How They Turned Out 

A Sequel to “ Little Men.” With 10 full-page plates by Ellen Wetherald 
Ahrens. $2.00. 

5. EIGHT COUSINS; or, the Aunt-Hill 

With 8 full-page pictures by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 

6. ROSE IN BLOOM 

A Sequel to “ Eight Cousins.” With 8 full-page pictures by .Harriet 
Roosevelt Richards. $2.00. 

7. UNDER THE LILACS 

With 8 original full-page pictures by Alice Barber Stephens. $2.00. 

8. JACK AND JILL 

With 8 full-page pictures from drawings by Harriet Roosevelt Richards. 
$2.00. 

Tlie artists selected to illustrate have caught the spirit of the originals and contributed a 
senes of strikingly beautiful and faithful pictures of the author’s characters and scenes. — 
Boston Herald. 

Alice Barber Stephens, who is very near the head of American illustrators, has shown 
wonderful ability in delineating the characters and costumes for “Little Women.” They are 
almost startlingly realistic. — IVorcester Spy. 

Miss Alcott’s books have never before had such an attractive typographical dress as the 
present. 'J'hey are printed in large type on heavy paper, artistically bound, and illustrated 
with many full-page drawings. — Philadelphia Press. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & COMPANY 

Publishers^ 254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 




















